We Are Wolves

It seems to be a uniquely, despicably human characteristic to always say what we don't mean, and to not mean what we say.

In other words, a large composite of our nature tends to lean towards tongue-twisting and truth-bending. Whatever variations, forms or cocoons you spin on these terms, the final evolution is always the same: everything ends up as lies.

For some, it's a defense mechanism, a coat of armor protecting their secrets and deflecting all attempts at human interaction, even the well-intentioned.

For some, it's a resolution stemming from fear. Even children know this - lying through their teeth about a cat knocking down a vase which was, in truth, their own mess. Lies equal temptation, the promise of escape with no consequences.

Then, there is the elite group. A select few who lie simply for the fun of it. For them, it's a game. Lying is the access door to cheating, stealing and having what you want. Lying knocks your enemies down inch by inch until you have the perverse satisfaction of seeing them stripped of their skin and honour.

It's hard to tell them apart from you and your own. The best of them cook your food, kiss you and tell you they love you. They offer sweet smiles and even sweeter dispositions. When their chips are down they smile even harder, burying pain after pain until they forget where it's hidden. They will hug you and promise to die for you, and they will stab you and lick your blood clean off their knife.

Beware the liars.