the storyteller and the con-man

Is a storyteller so different from a con-man? Isn't it easier to distance one's self from the reality that both can coexist in a single individual? Moreover, there are layers to the human psyche.

If you were to ask me if a con man was like a storyteller, I would say I don't know. In my 20's, I would have argued "you got to be kidding me! Nothing even close." I met a con man once. How can I describe this man? One moment, I need to ramble for a bit.                                I learned psychology and life was never black and white again. Which kinda pissed me off. I liked black and white. I liked the days when it was US and THEM. I wanted desperately to dismiss the multi-dimensionality of the human persona. I wanted to say to the world that he was a criminal A NO-GOOD CRIMINAL.  I was a person who told stories. Not to hurt people. Though looking back, my stories hurt people: And my stories hurt me. 

Oh yeah, let me describe him. He was ordinary. Maybe attractive. And he seemed to be good at conning people. I didn't know I was being conned by my own thoughts. He looked like an awesome main character. He looked like I could have a great experience with this man. So, I wrapped him up with all my infatuation and depersonalized him. I made him into a chapter. Adventure one day. Drama the next. Of course, I threw in some romantic comedy. I loved storytelling. I had chapters to write about our interludes. So one day I decide to go to the art museum to get some inspiration for my writing. I stared at the painting almost wishing I was deep inside of this gorgeous canvas. My mind transformed us to the places painted.  We lived in villages in the 1900's. We sat at the Italian seashores. We drank the wine of the brilliant still life depictions.  Of course, this was simply daydreaming. A lie. A multitude of lies. Hours and days of lies. Just a story to fill the time so that I could forget how lonely I felt out in the world. He was cute!! You can't blame a girl for that. After a while, he became my story, my con. An everyday deception perpetrated straight out of my mind. I was the storyteller. I conned myself. I wasn't a criminal. I didn't go around manipulating people. I manipulated myself. I told stories. Lots and lots of stories. So much for black and white thinking. Opposite sides of the same coin as they say.  Believe me, I'm not trying to con you.