some times i say all the wrong things and give all the wrong reasons for saying wrong things, and the world doesn't understand me, or maybe it does but right now i like to think that it doesn't, because that's easier than acknowledging my own lesser points--the abnormalities that show me for who i am, not who i've pretended to be all these years--and then i wake up some days and forget that i've been faking, because it's suddenly become me and now it's impossible to separate fact from fiction and that's just fucking queer.

just today i am realising that it's the imperfection in a person, a song, a line, an image that completes it...i've been striving all these months to be perfect and i've only just discovered that ugliness makes it so...photos mottled by edges of windows, reflections distorted by unplanned movements are the depth of crisp lines and clear cut messages without the bullshit of being calculated.