It’s sort of like, my past is an unfinished painting, and as the artist of that painting I must fill in all the ugly holes, and make it beautiful again.
When I look back on my life, it’s not that I don’t want to see things exactly as they happened, it’s just that I prefer to remember them in an artistic way. And truthfully, the lie of it all is much more honest because I invented it.
It’s not that I’ve been dishonest, it’s just that I loathe reality.
When the people who used to know found out what I’ve been doing, how I’ve been living, they ask my why. But there’s no use in talking to people who have a home, they have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in other people.
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(Source: usseless, via letsget0ut-ofhere)
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bigrnac:
lets play “how rude can i be until u realize i dont like u”
(Source: octupac, via inbox)
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