Retrograde

It was the lies that hurt the most.

It was when he'd say something when in fact it wasn't true.
It's him omitting the details, not telling me things, and what was really going on.
Like his failure to tell me that he was still seeing her. Or the others.
When he said they have no contact, that they don’t see each other anymore.
He lies about being over his ex when he's not, then proceeds to ask how my day went.

It's when he said he's going somewhere but the fact he was elsewhere.
He got so accustomed to lying, that he can tell a lie without feeling a tinge of guilt. Not a crack in his voice.

He got so used telling one lie after the other, it became almost second nature to him.
That the string of deception didn't matter because he can lie through his teeth and still sleep soundly at night.
How can he sleep at night and face me the following morning?

He doesn't care if the lies snowballed. He tells another lie to cover the other one and he got away with it for such a long time. He lies so badly he had almost made an alternate world from it.

He lies compulsively that because everything has been made up, even he can't keep track of everything he said.
At times he may have even contradicted himself.

He led a double life. He wanted to believe he’s a good person because he can perhaps justify why he had to avoid the truth, and yet again, he can still sleep at night.

He lied to me as to how his TV got broken.
And yet he can still bear to look me in the eye and dare lecture me on loyalty.
That being faithful is not even mentioning another guy's name in his presence.
It became so easy for him.

He's comforted by the thought that what I don't know won't hurt me. 

He'd like to think that lying will spare me from the hurt of knowing, and keeping it was an honorable thing to do. 

He can say he loves me but can be with someone else that day. Driving her. Staying at her house even. 

He thinks that the consequences of telling the truth outweigh the risk of telling a lie. 

He lies because he doesn't listen to that tiny voice in him telling him that what he’s doing was wrong.
Makes me wonder where was his conscience.

He doesn't have any problem with lying as long as it will get him off the hook.

His lying was a conscious decision; not in any way an accident. Or something that he didn't mean to do. 

His lies became more important than taking care of what could be a potential long-term relationship. He has never felt any shame for doing what he’s doing. 

His lies made me question even the truths he said; how was I to know what's real?

It made me question every single thing he said all those times.

It was the lies that hurt the most. And the damage it did to me was irreparable.
I wish his lies would eventually haunt him, as much as it continues to haunt me.

Because while he can still sleep tight, the mere thought of his lies keeps me wide-awake at night.