i love
poop.
fuck those who hate on freddie mercury.
and fuck those who hate on chubacca.
add me.
message me.
comment me.
i'm not an alcoholic. i'm not a druggie. i'm not anti-social. i just hate the world, and monopolize people, and their drugs and their lies. i lie a whole lot and only love a handful of people. i hate your music and i have a terrible pottymouth. i smoke, at least, two packs a day. i'm a bitch. i'm a horrible person. so sue me.
i lie.
the only thing standing between birth and death is lies. i'm determined to make my life a complete mystery to most who know me. a new person, a new story. i wouldn't say that since i lie to you, i'm not a good friend. perhaps i lie to you because i'm the best friend you'll ever have. i can count on one hand the people who i've never told a lie to.
and those people barely even matter anymore.
life's complicated.
lies make it easy.
i love.
my best friend is whom i depend on most. he's the only person i can completely rely on. not family, not a boyfriend, but someone who i've isolated myself from again and again. and i know he lies to me to make me happy, but i'd still like to find truth in the world.
odd, how i find myself searching for truth in a world that i, myself, label a lie.
you know what really grinds my gears?
the end peices. annoying.
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