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I’ve been lying to all of you. I can’t speak for the rest of the world out there but, I’m bursting at the seams and I just can’t keep lying. Everyday I post, tweet, and touch you, whoever you are, with my images and words and I can’t keep lying to you.

I’m lying about my glamorous life here in the mountains. Most days I’m hulled up in the extra bedroom of the house I rent, slamming away on this keyboard, squinting at my computer screen and becoming weaker, less in shape, and paler.

I’m lying that I reach the top of mountains with a smile on my face. Most of the adventures require some serious suffering, a whole lot of nerves, and a shitload of self-talk to overcome my paralyzing fear. I cry on 99 percent of these days. I cry because I’m scared, because I’m hungry and thirsty, because my knees ache, because I’ve been standing on the side of this damn mountain for over six hours and I just want a damn cheeseburger and a beer. Yes, I cry.

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I’m lying that one day I am galavanting in the mountains and the next I am sitting in the lineup somewhere on the coast. In my 27 years I have, twice, made last minute extensive travel plans that bring me from one amazing place to another. I live in the mountains, I try to go to the ocean as much as physically possible, but I’m poor as shit and travel ain’t cheap.

I’m lying that my relationship is gold, that we just climb mountains together, go on exotic beach vacations and romp around in the snow like two lovebirds. It looks beautiful in photos; gazing into each other’s eyes, laughing on the beach and smiling in a warm embrace at the top of a snowy mountain. But I am only human. I am hopeful that our relationship is gold but I am mostly trying to be brave because I’m afraid that it’s not. We argue. We disagree. We are human.

I’m lying that I even know how to surf. Had I not started dating Brady three years ago I would have never gone on a surf trip, I would have never tried (drowned) as hard as I did to learn, and I would still be here daydreaming about how cool it would be to know how to surf. I can barely duck-dive a shortboard and a successful day is making it out to the lineup.

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I’m lying that I am confident and put together. I still have no idea who I am. I constantly wonder what I was put on this earth for, where my place is here and what I need to maintain a state of happiness.

I’ve been lying that I am in full support of female partners. I mostly adventure with a (very specific) male partner and tend to stay away from female partners. Maybe it’s trust issues, maybe it’s group dynamics, and maybe I’m to blame.

I find myself stagnant at the kitchen table just scrolling through stranger’s pictures and being jealous. Thinking I should be doing more, getting out more, getting more done everyday. But isn’t it all just a lie? We’re all so “busy,” but are we? We waste so much energy and happiness dwelling on what we aren’t doing and what they are doing but what are we trying to prove?

I’m not hating. I will continue to post daily about something I may or may not be doing that actual day. I will still scroll through outdoor related hashtags and “engage” with total strangers and I will still feel good about myself when I get over 100 likes on a photo. No, I’m not hating, I’m just clearing the air and letting you know what happens behind the smiling summit photos.

I love breathing in fresh air, I love the feeling once the day is over, and I love the adrenaline I get from being scared. I do it because I love it, but it isn’t always pretty.

Monica Purington lives in Wyoming and blogs at tomgirlcreative.. Follow her @tomgirl