..

How can one be so unaware? So naive to all things which surround their every choice, every move. Is it intentional? Flies buzzing so loud and yet all you can do it close your eyes. Squeeze hard, at least. Where does it hurt, 1-10? 

I keep asking myself, is it an intentional ignorance? If it is, why so passionately and authentically act as if its truth?

Protection. But from me? No, I am harmless. 

Perhaps it's instinct at this point. Maybe my infinite outside sources are the culprit to my supposed descent from this. I feel so different. So evolved. 

That is, until I interact with the very sun of all the stars, the sole object which burns through all of your senses. 

Strong. Strength. Did she ever stand a chance? Am I deluding myself into believing I have overcome such a destiny? 

Baby food for god's sake, and still.

Destiny of Other. I feel it. I choose it now. 

Maybe it's like a lie you tell so well that you question yourself. But really you were lost the second you made the decision to tell such a lie because you let yourself believe it. That's the only way to tell any lie anyways. 

Good liars are stupid and distracted.

Their minds are too clouded to see the truth and this is how they utilize that to their own benefit.

Liars are strategic stupids.

I am a liar. 

Through and through, I don't know what's true.

I can't even fully claim that. Where does that leave me in external matters?

It's so easy to say something I don't mean with my chest- I do it all the time. I've only truly meant a few things out of all that I've said or written. 

Is there any substance to truth? Well, dry feathers are soft and I feel how I feel. 

My lying habit comes from not knowing what that feeling is. I don't understand how to name feelings.

Veronica.

Kathleen.

Jeremiah.

I've felt them. But, how can I ever meet them altogether? Face to face, calling them by their names. 

Never call me his, I will throw up. 

Never call me hers, as I am his.

Anyway I don't know what to call what and I don't take notice of when they're near so when I look back I guess at Aaron or Jimmy when really it was some Sandra Ivy Saint Clare all along. That's how I lie. Any other form is impossible for me.

Essentially I've pulled the worst luck of the draw- or whatever that expression is. 

Maybe I feel too rarely and think too abstractly. At least, "too" in regards to how I then communicate with others. 

Yelling and drawing!

I wish for a life of truths, I'm lost.