It has always been brought to my attention that I was someone unique. From the first memory that I have, being 5 years old and listening to my sister's slumber party in the other room, to my last memory, being told that someone "doesn't want any trouble" in the lavatory. This life that I have led for the past 20 years has been nothing less than a rampage of confusions, decisions, and consequences. Where as others would like to blame their lives on bad luck, I'd like to take what blame there is on myself. Of course some will say that I am "not entirely to blame", to which I say "How can I be sure?" Other's describe me as funny, nice, generous, and ridiculous. My soul speaks of myself the best. I am a self-loathing egotistical manic depressant.
I guess one could say that I almost started to believe myself somewhere in there. With a childhood that was nothing less than lonely, I found myself looking to myself for purpose and relevance.
I guess one could say that I never found that. With a family that was nothing less than uplifting, I found myself running away from the things that were important.
I guess one could say that things never change. With a friend that was nothing less than brother, I found myself lying to my kin.
A bi-polar catastrophe of wit and ferocity.
I guess one could say that I almost started to believe myself somewhere in there. With a lover who gave me contentment, I found myself pushing away from how life was intended.
A lying saint with mixed intentions.
I guess one could say that I started to believe myself somewhere in there.
If I were you, I would just give up.
I guess one could say that I started to believe in myself
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