inveterate liar. this is how my parents would describe me throughout my childhood.
and it was true. i would lie and lie and lie. and spin stories and intricate webs. and then i would believe them myself so much that i would lie without missing a beat. where have you been? at my friends'. where did you spend your holiday? in brazil, surfing. what did you do with him? i can't remember. did you hit your brother? no.
now, though, i have to write a fictional story about myself and i can't for my life think of anything to write about. maybe because who would believe any of it anyway?