Wasp

Memories are scattered in my mind. I feel like a wasp that is trapped on the wrong side of the window. I feel like a part of me should not exists. I sense a constant struggle between myself and I. I do not know where the real world stops and where imagination starts. I really don't know how much of my life is real. Is anything really real? I'll keep living this post reality life, not because it is easier, it's really not. But because that is the only way I know how to survive. You can be a jealous cat, or an idiotic asshole, I really don't care. Nothing that You do can change the way I am. You may think otherwise, but here I am; I'm playing my game by my rules. You don't like something...well, sucks for you, cuz I could not care less. So go, kid, play.