lies.

i am drawing history.

I am sketching you into a corner with a blunt lead, creating you in the space between months gone and today. You are nothing, and in my mind that's how you will stay. You are no masterpiece, just another mistake to add to the wreckage that inhabits my groundings. I might remember you, but i will never again relive you. I believe we are a product of how we were raised. I was given everything I'd ever asked for, and I was always told I was the best at what I did. Of course I'm fucking conceited – I'm amazing.