A World Full Of Fabulists:
Is Anyone Their True Self?
Photo : Wikimedia Commons / Jamain
Like the phrase, ‘a roller coaster of emotions,’ the typical teen angst of betrayal is a common cliché. However I assure you that in this instance both apply. For me, naively trusting and easily impressionable, the rare appearance of a true ‘fabulist’ is one that can cause emotional turmoil. They always appear the same, shining bright against the dull mass of people, like a beacon of hope that screams ‘life isn't always this boring’! They have the villain power of turning malleable innocents into tunnel-visioned clones, and tactlessly engulf you in their false reality. Its too late when you look down and realise you're waist deep in the quick-sand of lies.
By definition, a fabulist is ‘a teller of tales’. And from my experience, I have used this noun to categorise, the previously undefined, best and worst people to have entered my life. To me, the ‘fabulist’ is more than someone who enjoys a juicy rumour and maybe the odd stretching of the truth. Its more of a retelling of their own reality, creating completely fictional events which astound those around them.
My oldest friend was indeed a ‘Fabulist’ and unfortunately it was only after discovering this title that I realised I had spent my whole life envying someone who was fictional. Ever since the age of four I had been believing her artificial tales. Listening intently as she talked about the mysterious pastel parcel that appeared on her bed, wrapped in rich silk ribbon, containing a Marc Jacobs dress and a plane ticket to Paris. I obliviously indulged in such lies, turning green as I imagined her skipping from L’audree to the Eiffel Tower, hand in hand with her secret admirer. There were times however, when her distorted world took a dangerous turn. Some stories involved our other friends, causing internal conflict within our friendship group. Or even her own family, which led to more than uncomfortable dinners when I asked about their latest trip to Russia.
But it wasn't just me that was victim, her forged life extended to anyone she could allure. Which was everyone. To think about the countless lives she will have touched, the guys who fell powerless at her feet, only to end up with a deceived heart broken into a million pieces.
Taking some indirect advice from Shrek, ‘Ogres have layers’, it seems unjust to declare that these fabulous liars are just that, liars. Beneath all the extravagant stories is an individual who feels the need to compensate for what might be a harsher reality than imagined. Self-confidence is not something that is handed on a plate with side salad. It comes with age and experience, both of which some are just not prepared to wait for. The question of self-worth is one that the negative side of our mind holds hostage and releases at our darkest points. I can’t imagine anyone who hasn't had that feeling of self-loathing and desired a personality reinvention.
Whats important to remember is that no matter who you are or where you come from, you are unique. Everyone has something to share and you shouldn't have to change yourself for anyone. And obviously if someones stories sound a little too good to be true, that's probably because they are!