9:22 p.m. - 2004-04-25
the true truth about the lying lies
There has to be something behind this. I'm hiding behing a dressing room, covering my naked body, a body that should never be covered. The pseudo me has taken over me and I seemed to have lost the original. Am I really just a product of my environment? Because this environment is producing nothing of the sort. Could this environment possibly be a product of me? The truth to all this truly is just a lie lying around, waiting to be figured out. Like a painting that portrays immense amounts of verisimilitude, I stand here realizing that I am made of variegated ideas with contsantly changing colors coloring who I truly am.
