there's a tiny lie floating around in my throat, waiting for daylights breath to reach. the clumps of hair i held within my hand demonstrated a part of me (the past of me) i no longer knew. there were never any reasons besides pleasing the counterparts attention, but tossing my (past) confidence aside, i threw the strands to the floor. this was never who i was, nor had it ever represented who i really was. or whoever i felt i was. or whoever i think i am now.

there are nails to hammer in. there are screws to be tightened. there are nooses needed to be hung and a conscience needing repair. i'm beginning re-construction of myself now. i'm tired of living through others.

no one knows the destruction i have at hand. the damage i can/may posses; i can rip myself apart or watch you burn.
i'm embarassed. i'm ashamed.

i look at all these photographs..
i'm going to go do something about myself.
xxxx