We Were Liars

An Invitation to My World

Dear kindred spirit, I'm unsure why I feel compelled to reach out to you, of all people, in this vast and complex universe, but something tells me you might understand—or at least, yearn to. My name is Cadence Sinclair Eastman, and I hail from a family that's as picturesque as they come, with cracks so deep within our facade that they could swallow us whole.

We Sinclairs are tall, proud, and we are, as some would say, American royalty. But like the most intricate of tapestries, the beauty comes from the tangled threads beneath, and that is where my story begins.

You see, every summer, my family gathers on a private island off the coast of Massachusetts. Beechwood Island—it's ours.

The salty ocean breeze, the sprawling estate, and the sense of isolation from the world's chaos. It's enchanting, isn't it? Yet, with every wave that crashes upon the shore, I'm reminded of the secrets that the ocean depths refuse to release.

Much like your own life, I bet there are moments and places that seem idyllic on the surface, but underneath, there's turmoil and whispers of discontent. This island, this family, and the memories we've made on its shores have shaped me in ways I'm still unraveling.

I'm not unlike you, grappling with the bliss and the pain of memories, trying to discern which to hold onto and which to let the tide wash away. It's a dance as delicate as it is desperate.

So, take my hand, and let's step into this waltz together. I promise, by the time the music fades, you'll see yourself in the mirror of my story.

The Summer of Discontent

Summer Seventeen was unlike any other. It was the summer that burned everything to the ground—figuratively, then nearly literally.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Like the slow, rising heat of July, I'll let the story simmer.

We, the Liars—my dear cousins Mirren, Johnny, and Gat, Gat with his compelling eyes and a mind that challenged every Sinclair notion—were inseparable. Our days were filled with the reckless abandon that only comes with youth and a sense of immortality.

You've felt that, haven't you? The invincibility of being young and untouched by life's crueler jokes? But as the summer progressed, the idyllic facade began to crumble. Family arguments, the pressure of expectations, the bitter taste of greed—it seeped into our perfect world.

I remember feeling as if I were walking a tightrope, high above the reality that threatened to swallow me whole. Have you ever stood on such a precipice, where the fall seems both terrifying and inevitable? That summer taught me about the fragility of our realities and the illusions we hold dear.

And then, the accident. A moment that fractured my mind and our collective existence.

It's peculiar, isn't it, how life can change in the blink of an eye? How one event can send ripples through time, altering everything in its wake. You've experienced change, sudden and jarring, I'm sure.

The kind that forces you to look at the shards of your life and decide how—or if—they can be pieced back together.

The Silence After the Storm

In the wake of the accident, I was a shell of my former self. My memories scattered like leaves in an unforgiving wind, and I was left to chase after them, grasping at the remnants of who I was.

The mind is a peculiar fortress; it protects yet imprisons. You've felt lost in your own thoughts before, haven't you? When the very fabric of your being seems like a labyrinth with no exit in sight.

My family, ever concerned with appearances, swathed everything in a shroud of silence. Silence can be a balm, but in our case, it was a poison.

We buried truths, we danced around the gaping holes in our conversations, and in doing so, we allowed the wounds to fester. I know you understand this, the way unspoken words can sometimes scream louder than any argument, how they can echo in your mind until you're unsure what's real anymore.

I spent that year after Summer Seventeen in a haze, a ghost haunting the halls of my own life. School, friends, the passing seasons—all a blur through the fogged lens of my confusion.

Isn't it bewildering, how life moves on, indifferent to our personal catastrophes? How the world expects us to keep pace when our legs can barely carry the weight of our sorrow?

Shards of the Truth

As the months passed and the next summer loomed, the shards of my memories began to pierce the fog. Each piece a jagged reminder of what was lost, of the lies we told ourselves and each other.

The truth, I've learned, is both liberating and devastating. There's a rawness in facing it, much like peeling back the skin to expose the wound underneath.

You've been there, haven't you? At the precipice of a truth so daunting that you can't decide whether to embrace it or run from it. With each sliver of memory, the picture grew clearer, and so did the pain.

My family, the Liars, our summers—they were never what they seemed. We were players in a story written by generations of deceit, wealth, and false pride.

Have you ever peeled back the layers of your life, only to discover that the foundation you stood upon was nothing more than a beautifully crafted illusion? I faced it all: the love, the loss, the betrayal. And as I did, I realized that to move forward, I had to let go.

Letting go isn't giving up; it's accepting that some things can't be changed, no matter how desperately we wish otherwise. It's a lesson I learned in the hardest way possible, and one I suspect you're familiar with, in the quiet moments when you're forced to confront your own limitations.

The Bonds That Break and Bind

Amidst the chaos of my revelations, the bonds that I thought unbreakable began to strain and snap. Yet, surprisingly, new ties formed—stronger, truer.

Gat, with his relentless pursuit of truth, was my anchor in a sea of uncertainty. Have you ever found solace in another's unwavering presence? Someone who stands beside you, even when the ground crumbles beneath your feet? Family, I discovered, is not just about blood.

It's about the choices we make, the support we offer, and the love we give freely, without the expectation of return. In the rebuilding of my world, I found strength not in the name "Sinclair" but in the connections that weathered the storm with me.

You, too, have your own tribe, your own chosen family, bound not by obligation but by shared battles and unspoken understandings. The Liars, we were more than just cousins and friends; we were a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

Through our shared pain, we forged a bond that transcended the superficial ties that once defined us. I bet you've had moments like that, where shared pain and love intertwine so tightly that they become indistinguishable, where you realize that some bonds are worth every tear shed and every heartache endured.

A New Tide

As the next summer dawned, I returned to Beechwood Island with a sense of purpose. The island, once the stage for our carefree plays, now held a somber note, a reminder of the cost of our lies.

But I was determined to rewrite the script, to change the legacy of the Sinclairs. Have you ever felt that? The stirring of a new beginning, the courage to redefine your story on your terms? I walked the beaches, the halls, the memory-laden rooms, and with each step, I shed a layer of the old Cadence.

The island, with its timeless waves and whispering winds, became a place of healing. It's much like life, isn't it? The places and moments that once hurt us can, given time and a shift in perspective, become the very ground on which we grow.

And grow I did, into a person who could look back with clarity and forward with hope. I learned that sometimes, we must drown in the depths to truly appreciate the breath of fresh air, to value the light after the dark.

You've felt that, haven't you? The sweet relief that comes after enduring the storm, the quiet pride in knowing that you've emerged stronger, wiser, more alive.

Epilogue: A Shared Journey

Now, as I close this chapter of my tale, I stand before you, not as Cadence Sinclair Eastman of the esteemed Sinclair family, but as simply Cadence—a girl who has walked through fire and emerged with a story to share. I've unveiled my heart to you, not to teach or to preach, but to offer a mirror into which you might glimpse your own soul.

We are more alike than you might have believed, you and I. We've both loved, lost, and found strength in places we never thought to look.

My journey, woven into the fabric of this letter, is not unique. It's the human experience, etched with pain, beauty, and the relentless pursuit of truth.

As you reflect upon your own path, remember that it's the struggles that shape us, the questions that propel us, and the love that sustains us. We are all, in our own ways, survivors of our own stories, liars until we embrace our truths.

And if you've found a kinship in my words, a resonance within your own life, then I extend an invitation to delve deeper into the world of the Sinclairs. "We Were Liars" by E.

Lockhart is not just a book; it's a masterpiece that whispers the truths we often hide from ourselves. It's a story of love, loss, and the lies we tell to protect the ones we hold dear.

In its pages, you'll find more than just my story—you'll find fragments of your own. So, take the leap, immerse yourself in the Sinclair legacy, and discover what lies beneath the surface.

Who knows? You may emerge with wisdom that lights your way, just as it did for me. With an open heart and an enduring spirit, Cadence