Thursday, June 17, 2004

Exercise in fictional abstraction

It’s all a facade. The words haunt me deeply. To imagine that this is all fake. What could possible possess someone to whisper those words to me before they gave their last breath? Then I imagine what do they mean by its all? Do they perhaps mean my entire friendship with them? Perhaps they were discussing the past relationships. Could it even be a word from beyond the grave? Was she trying to tell me that life and reality is all fake? It’s all a facade. The defining words for my existence. So many masks sit in my closet. So many lies hide my true existence. Perhaps those were words of warning for me to change my ways.

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