Who wants the truth? I can’t handle the truth!
Beginning: angry, nervous, annoyed, pissed off, frustrated, strung out, stressed.
End: calm (i’ll figure it out somehow) + another little wrinkle.
Wrinkles are good.
So I decided, instead, my wrinkles will be signs that, while I’m not getting any younger, I am in fact becoming much wiser. They will be signs, like memories, of the times I laughed; the times I had the chance to put my face to the sun on bright days; the times I worried and then found the strength to overcome the hurdles.
Sometimes I like your truth more than mine.
In this entangled web of lies, the truth is growing in me and I have accepted it becoming a reality. Whispered, then spoken. In clear shouts.
Remember me, I will never be the same.