i hate people who think they knew me when as if i was once true and now am false a personality is a progression some wild twisting beast that never stops escaping from itself in the ghetto of winter i traced my hand on a placemat drew your face with my eyes closed pretended i was eating with my favorite author pretending i was making him laugh i just don t know how to feel i just don t feel but i wouldn t even notice no i wouldn t have any reason to care if not for your complaint i know that i make you unhappy but what can i do i wasn t created just for you not just for you