Posers...
I can't write. Everytime I try it ends up sounding like contrived bull shit. I always feel like a poser. The world is a majorly fake place and I have no way to fit in. Fads are beyond me. They don't suit me. Nothing suits me. Except the person who understands me. The person who is exactly like me. There's a connexion. Something so weird that I don't know where I am with him. Whether I am him or he's me. Thinking on the page as someone like him is a complete shock. He's so smart and hauntingly different. He's like me and yet not like me at all.
Needing to escape.
To be me without the mask for just a moment.
Telling myself how I really feel.
But how do I really feel?
I can't tell the difference between the mask and reality anymore.
Faking it is the way our society functions.
It copes by putting on a mask.
Does anyone really know who they are anymore?
Because I sure as fuck don't!
I've gone through so many transformations the destruction of each transformation has left me drained.
Save me...
Needing to escape.
To be me without the mask for just a moment.
Telling myself how I really feel.
But how do I really feel?
I can't tell the difference between the mask and reality anymore.
Faking it is the way our society functions.
It copes by putting on a mask.
Does anyone really know who they are anymore?
Because I sure as fuck don't!
I've gone through so many transformations the destruction of each transformation has left me drained.
Save me...