i want to go back to believe in your lies. i want to go back to believe in my lies. this is a moment of weakness. a moment where the pretty lies seem better than the cold truths. because at least then, something was reassuring...now everything's discouraging and confusing and i feel like the more i see, the less i understand; i'm walking eyes-wide and backwards into an officespacewonderland. things[peices] are disappearing like sand...so slowlyquickly all i know is i've got an empty hand. huh, my mad ramblings sound poetic in a way. it doesn't feel so poetic right now. i can't tell whether my fantasies are fantasies still or memories, and i'm stuck in this hell, this hazy hazy hell, and i'm remembering how i got here...shit.
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