everything i tell people is only a small part of the real, greater story. i let people know only up to what they need to know. you just believe the words that come out of my mouth. don't you ever ask... "why?" you are all fools for not thinking the worst of me.

that is my life.

so ashamed of it that i am a closed book trying to burn the pages behind me as the story is being written.

do people ever learn from their mistakes? i don't, but i should. no more fucking around.