The Cost of Lies

We tell ourselves lies are harmless. A little omission here, a white lie there. We say it’s to protect someone’s feelings, to avoid unnecessary conflict, to keep the peace. But here’s the truth: every lie has a cost.

In The Venus Fly Trap, lies run like a fault line beneath the story. Some were mine, some belonged to others, but all of them carried repercussions. And the thing about repercussions? They always arrive, even if they’re fashionably late.

The First Lie We Tell

The very first lie isn’t to someone else — it’s to ourselves.

We convince ourselves:

• “This isn’t a big deal.”
• “I can stop anytime.”
• “They’ll never find out.”
• “It’s just this once.”

Those little mental negotiations are the slippery slope. Once we justify one lie, the next one comes easier. Before long, we’re building a house of cards we know will collapse — we just hope it doesn’t collapse today.

Emotional Repercussions

Lies corrode trust, even when they remain hidden. If you’re holding onto a secret, you carry it like an invisible weight. The guilt seeps into your words, your tone, your body language. The other person senses something is off, even if they can’t name it.

That constant tension? It kills intimacy. You may be in the same bed, but you’re not really together. A lie is a wall, and walls don’t make good lovers.

Financial Fallout

Not all lies are emotional. Some carry very real financial consequences. In my own story, a single lie — about money, about fidelity, about intentions — could change the course of years. A hidden debt, a betrayal of trust, a promise broken: the cost isn’t just in dollars, it’s in opportunity lost.

And when the truth finally comes out (and it always does), the cleanup costs far more than the lie ever seemed to save.

Spiritual Consequences

Here’s the part we rarely talk about: lies fracture the soul. Even if no one else knows, you know. And that knowledge eats away at you.

You start to doubt your own worth. If people only love the version of you wrapped in lies, do they really love you at all? That’s the trap. Lies don’t just deceive others; they alienate us from ourselves.

Why We Lie Anyway

So why do we do it? Why do otherwise good, intelligent, loving people lie?

Because lies feel easier in the moment. They’re shortcuts. Truth may set you free, but first it demands you walk through fire. Lies promise escape without effort. But that’s the scam. They’re freedom on credit, with interest rates that would make a loan shark blush.

Lessons From My Own Repercussions

In The Venus Fly Trap, I saw firsthand how lies can turn love toxic. How one unspoken truth can rot a relationship from the inside out.

And I also saw how confession, as terrifying as it was, could transform everything. Sometimes it ended things. Sometimes it healed them. But it always moved me forward.

The lie kept me stuck. The truth set me free.

What Lies Cost You

Lies cost more than money or relationships. They cost peace.

If you’ve ever woken up at 3 a.m. with your heart pounding, running through the mental checklist of what you’ve said, what you’ve hidden, and what might slip — you know the toll. The cost is your sleep. Your sanity. Your ability to breathe without that weight pressing on your chest.

That’s a high price for a “harmless” omission.

Choosing Truth

Truth isn’t always kind. It’s not always easy. Sometimes it burns everything down. But at least it leaves you standing on solid ground. Lies, on the other hand, build palaces in quicksand.

If The Venus Fly Trap has one lesson to offer, it’s this: the cost of lies is always greater than the cost of truth. Always.

Final Thought

Every lie comes with a bill. You may not see it today, but one day it arrives, stamped “Payment Due.”