The Fallen Leaves

Lies after lies after lies. It must be something you're talented at.. Lies after lies after lies. You seem not to aware I began to suspect it. Layer after layer after layer. So perfectly. I asked what you're up that day and you replied you don't remember. When I said M told me that you went out with her, you just laughed and said you now remember it.  When your story sounds illogical to me, I began to doubt your honesty. Someone told me you're just good at it that you misused the trust people gave it to you. Lies after lies after lies. Again and again and again. You ain't tired playing the games, don't you? You played as the innocent, fooling people around you. Because of the countless lies you made up, I avoid you and soon, you avoid me without a slight of guilt. You really act so well. We may still be friends but with a friend like you, I doubt if you are really worth a lifetime. Lies aren't made up like a f...

I was around 11 years old when I saw my friend’s handwriting so beautiful that I copied, trying to look exactly the same. Like this, Today is Friday. Almost like this font. So, one day, the teacher called me out to her desk and ask if the work done is handwritten by me. I said yes. The class became tensed. She asked for the second time and I said yes (not knowing she doubt I changed my handwriting). She glared at me and said between her gritted teeth, trying to control her anger (that’s what I see) and I still said the same answer. She asked again, “It’s your mum’s handwriting, right?” I said it was mine. Whilst I was standing beside her, I wondered,  Why is she asking this? She never asked her (my friend which I mentioned above).  Sort of the teacher thinks I lied and it didn’t work no matter how confident I said it was my handwriting. When I was 12 years old, I found another handwriting. It was my friend’s elder sister’s. Siti  Amirah I just remember the S an...