I lie about how I feel. I do it to protect and alleviate the thoughts of others. I lie about my ambitions. To give a semblance of hope for the next generation to others. But in reality, I lost that to "her". I lost ambition and my future hope a long time ago. I no longer have what I need to live that life. I lie about how I see the world. I hate it. I want it to burn. But I also want it to enjoy. I'm not saying I'm God or a god [nothing egotistical like that]. Or I could do such things to begin with. But look at it. It's filth. There's pockets of hope here and there. But its miserable and suffocating. I lie about how some of my relationships went. IN reality, some never got past texts and calls and pictures. It counted for the time. And to show others I had a life. But I only really went out with three women. Four or five if you count "dates" as going out with friends of the opposite sex.
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Compass (2018)
Random"Fate, is nothing other than the allowance, and passing, of your present circumstantial reality to dictate all potential future outcomes." - Me, myself and I.
