A Lie: A Personal Experience Of Lying

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I was about a year and a half when social services came to take me away from my family. It was right after my little brother was born, when the hospital notice that my parents where drug addicts. Therefore making my birth parents unfit to raise me and my brother. It was then social services found a home for my brother and I. Since I was so young I did not remember that I was adopted until I would get a call from my birth mother. It was just any other Saturday watching cartoons when unexpectedly I heard my mother call me from my room. I had a phone call she had told me when I came to see what she needed. I talked on the phone answering the ladies questions she had, when she asked if I knew who she was. I thought for a moment but couldn’t think …show more content…
I was upset that none of my friends would believe me that they all sided with Reyna’s reasoning why I was lying. One thing my parents taught me while growing up was that lying was wrong. The telling of a lie was a show of bad manners, it was a bad thing to do. My friend’s non-belief in me about telling the truth left me to figure out how to convince them that I was telling the truth. I had no one to talk to about this problem with because my older sisters didn’t live with my family any more they had moved out a while ago. Also I had a feeling that my parents didn’t want me to remember I was adopted. I thought my parents didn’t want me to know because they feared that I would feel like they were not my real parents and end up hating them. I do not feel this way towards my adoptive parents, I love them with all my …show more content…
I knew in my heart that I was not lying to my friends and I had nothing to prove to them. If my friends didn’t choose to believe me about being adopted I couldn’t change their minds. I knew that my friends and I were too young to see the difference past skin color as well. I see the small difference between me and my adoptive parents as I grow older every day. I also understand that even though they aren’t my birth parents, they are still my parents the ones who raised me into the woman I am today. They are the ones who cared for me when my birth parents could not. My adoptive parents chose to raise me as their own and I will forever be grateful. It doesn’t matter to me anymore whether others believe me or not since it doesn’t make a difference in how I see my adoptive

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