The truth sometimes costs you something upfront. Lies always charge later, with interest.

Telling the truth takes its payment up front, in one uncomfortable conversation you can see coming. A lie postpones that and adds to it: the original thing, plus the cover story, plus remembering the cover story, plus whatever happens when it surfaces. The bill still arrives, only later and bigger.

When you catch yourself editing a story for safety, ask what the plain version would cost right now. Usually it is five bad minutes. Pay those instead, and you get to stop maintaining a second version of reality.