It takes two people to make a lie work: the person who tells it, and the one who believes it.

When you showed someone how you felt, it was fesh and honest. Whe you told someone how you felt, there might be nothing behind the words but habit or expectation.

I realize how quickly lies compound. They cover like a coat of paint, one on top of the other, until you cannot remember what color you started with.

Envy, after all, comes from wanting something that isn't yours. But grief comes from losing something you've already had.

A lot of the hallmark behaviors of autism - flat affect, stimming, not looking someone in the eye - could very easily be misinterpreted as signs of guilt.

I imagined what it would be like to hold a butterfly in your hands something bejeweled and treasured and to know that despite your devotion it was dying by degrees.

Your problem is that you have been too honest for too long. Once you start doing it, lying is simpler than breathing.