mirage

i've always believed that i see only the things i want to see.

No matter how bad things are, i seem to find a reason, an excuse; so that things look better. at least they do in my eyes.

Not until my girlfriends point my flaws out, or splashes freezing *fucking* ice cold water over my head do i realize that.. "Hey! Seriously, what am i doing? Am i even sure at all?"

i always see past the jaded stuff, and make believe that all this shite i'm going through is nothing. Nothing compared to the way he touches me or how he makes me feel. That this is real. but who the fucking-hell knows? What if he isn't? What if it's just a facade that he shows? What if it's just the representation he has already drawn in my mind? And i'm just stupid enough to follow and listen?

Why do i continue to paint pretty pictures of everything, when, actually, things just look like a barren-fucking-wasteland of dashed hopes?

Does it even matter?

At the end of the day, the point is; what the fucking hell matters most?