Black and White

I want to be more than what people think I’m going to become. I want exceed expectations. But who am I perspiring to be? Something more than what I am. Something meaningful, and careful yet carless enough to bring more than a strict happiness to those who may surround me. I want and hope for so many things that I’ve lost track of what that track is. And to be honest? I can’t because I am incapable of separating the two at this very moment. The truth and lies that is. Self pitty and feeling sorry for yourself is a terrible habit one can subject themselves to. It can turn to a terrible death really, so full of made up sorrow? Pushed to the point of destructive and impassible behavior? Wanting to slit your wrists because of a story backed up by lies and a mutilated truth. Black is bad but white is worse. White is transparent. You can’t hide behind a white tarp. But black, black is a mask of a true identity. A truth so bright it could burn hole into the fucking ground.