honestly

it starts with something innocent-
telling the barista at starbucks that your name is rachel when in fact it isn't. telling the stranger who asks about your shoes that you got them for your birthday when really you found them at a thrift store. trivial things to trivial people. absolutely harmless.
and then, like all things, it grows.
slowly, like a sapling in your front yard- a little tree with creeping roots, and every time you water it, it grows. 
trivial things, not so trivial people.
and the roots creep. and the tree gets taller, and bigger. 
important things, important people.
and the roots creep further until every time you walk out your front door you're standing in it's shadow, until the roots begin tearing up the sidewalk, and you have to tiptoe over and around them carefully so you don't trip and fall. giant, immovable, waiting for you to forget to watch where you're going. 
everything, everyone.


and you have no idea why you do it.