Reading some of my posts is like fruitlessly trying to reframe myself in a self portrait i was never in. I can't believe the amount of things i spill and how much of myself seeps into this. There's frustration, the slight fragrance of cynacism, masked sarcasm. I'm writting as if everything matters and these memories are all i have. I write to myself most of the time, and i can see at times where i thought things mattered, and certain people read this.... My mind over thinks when i'm awake at 1 am