I didn't expected it to end this way :(

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You learn to hide when the lights get shut off so your friends don't find out.

I was 12 when I became an expert at making excuses.

"Sorry, I can't hang out tonight. My mom has a migraine and needs the house quiet"

"We can't have the sleepover at my place. My dad's working night shifts and needs to sleep"

"I can't answer the door right now. My family's having a private dinner."

The truth was simpler and more embarrassing

We hadn't paid the electric bill in three months.

Every evening at 6 PM, our house went completely dark. No lights, no TV, no microwave. Just candles and flashlights until bedtime.

My mom would light candles in the kitchen and we'd eat dinner by candlelight, pretending it was romantic instead of desperate.

"It's like camping," she'd say with forced cheerfulness. "Ian't this fun?"

But I knew she was crying in the bathroom afterward.

The worst part was when friends would call during those dark hours.

"Why does your voice sound weird? my best friend Sarah asked one night.

I was whispering because I was hiding in my closet with a flashlight, pretending to be sick.

"I'm just tired. I lied.

"Can I come over? I'm bored."

"No, my mom says I might be contagious

Another lie to add to the growing pile

At school, I became a master of deflection.

When kids talked about their weekend plans, I'd change the subject.

When they complained about being grounded from TV, I'd nod along like I understood.

When they invited me to birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese, I'd say my family had plans

The truth was we couldn't afford the gas money to drive there, let alone buy a gift.

I learned to est lunch slowly so it would last longer, because I knew there might not be dinner.

I learned to do homework by streetlight stresming through my bedroom window learned to shower at school after gym class because our hot water had been shut off too.

But the hardest lesson was learning to lie to the people who cared about me.

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"Why can't we ever go to your house?" Sarah asked one day after months of hanging out at her place.

"My mom's really private," I said. "She doesn't like having people over."

Sarah looked hurt. "Don't you trust me?"

I trusted her completely. That was the problem.

I was terrified that if she knew the truth, she'd look at me differently.

That she'd pity me or, worse, stop being my friend because I was the poor kid.

So I kept lying.

Until the day she showed up at my door unannounced.

It was 7 PM on a Tuesday. Our house was dark except for the candles flickering in the kitchen

I opened the door in panic, trying to block her view inside.

"Surprise!" she said cheerfully, "I brought cookies my mom made."

She looked past me and saw the candles, the darkness, my mom sitting at the kitchen table with a flashlight reading bills.

"Oh." Sarah said quietly. "Your power's out."

I wanted to lie again. Say it was just temporary, just a storm, just anything but the truth.

Instead, I started crying.

"We can't pay the electric bill," I whispered. "We haven't been able to pay it for months."

Sarah stepped inside and hugged me.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" she asked.

"Because I was embarrassed."

"Of what? This isn't your fault."

That night, Sarah sat with us at our candlelit kitchen table, eating cookies and helping my move organire bills by flashlight.

She never treated me differently after that.

In fact, she started bringing extra lunch to school "because her mom always packed too much

She'd invite me to sleepovers and tell her parents i was allergic to certain foods so they'd make simpler, cheaper meals

She never made me feel like charity.
Two months later, my mom got a better job and we caught up on our bills.

But I never forgot what it felt like to live in the dark, or how much it meant when someone chose to sit in that darkness with you instead of judging you for it.