the story of you's been walking around the world with me for so long, that i'm now afraid to let it go on paper.
you've been growing in my head all this time that i can hardly separate truth from lie from fiction.
i'm not me. i'm not you.
what about all the lies? were they part of the narrative of you? a way of escaping the unbearable reality called my life
multiple personalities... there must be, how else do you explain the intricate lives your character is juggling?
paranoia.. afraid that someone will figure it all out. the fiction.
anxiety... well...
fear... hardly surprising considering the fictional living
all make for an interesting state of mind...
do the lies we tell, the small untruths add up to the fiction of you?
if they do, then we are all born storytellers...
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