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How real is it? I mean, is it real? Everyone seems to make up lies on the spot, to think they are more important. Is there any truth in the words they say, or are they completely lies? Do these people actually believe their lies, or do they not want to admit the truth because they’ve stuck by the lies for so long. Is it a matter of pride, of giving up all the time and fighting they’ve wasted on it, or have their lies even fooled themselves?
More than any of that, is that what I’ve done, is that what I’m doing? Have I lied and fooled myself too? Or am I different? But what if I’m the only one, how can I accurately tell if I’ve never seen someone like me before?
Is any of it real? Am I even real?
And these nights I get high, just from breathin’, when I lie here with you, I’m sure that I’m real…
And that’s the only time. I miss you, and I need you. I need to be with you again, to feel your breath on me, to feel you breath the air out of my lungs… I miss you. My life is all a large attempt to be near you again, to hold you in my arms.
I love you.
