I'm sorry it had to be this way.
But, I won't apologize for who I am.

(paris. and my name is in the picture, yo.)
now, because i write, i can't stop myself most of the times.
i don't know where all these words came from
but read it if you must.
i like exaggerating, it's what i do.
it makes things interesting because people like drama.
life, on the other hand, is often a dreadful bore.
i just felt like typing. and it lay there as a draft because i didn't want
to be judged if i put it out to be read.
to the real world: you are all weird and lame and i love you for it.
look, just skip this if you have something more important to do like, ironing or doing your homework or stepping on someone's cat.
i was an idiot. but at least, i am not like you.
i may do heaps of ridiculous shit and get myself trampled upon,
but at least when it came to you,
i got out fast enough before the
house burnt to the ground, or something like such.
am grateful to all who warned you about me
because
they did a convincing job,
now.
you know, i might just
take that bit back. i'm not upset that i met you.
and the truth is, you might have changed me in that little way,
maybe i got scared of the new me,
but i never left. it wasn't me.
i have a list of stuff i can't live without
and i've just scratched your name out,
so hard, it left a hole in the paper.
pretty much like me, i guess.
sucks that it had to become like this.
sucks, really.