I'm a compulsive liar. I don’t understand why I do it. I make intriguing things up about myself. I can’t even tell who I really am anymore. It seems I lie in order to feel better about myself. Maybe once I realize I'm a pretty spectacular person just the way I am, I'd stick with the truth. I also try to show respect, even to people, including myself, who may don’t deserve it, not as a reflection of character but as a reflection of mine, but I miss the mark sometimes out of frustration, questioning why “it’s always me” who tries to be right; feeling that other people are doing the wrong things at times. But at the end of the day, respect is better. It's better not to even lower myself the tiniest bit. I’m better than that.
-- Jonathan Harnisch, author of Sex, Drugs, and Schizophrenia