A Retelling of Events That Never Happened.
Am I Imagining the Answers?
I tell myself I know so much about you, talk about you like I know so much about you.
“Ryan doesn’t love Alex. He falls in love with people he thinks he can save who, in reality, just end up saving him. He’s absorbing Alex. He’s a leech. He just mimics them, their traits, their being. Sometimes I’m not sure if he’s even sure of who he is. He’s just a reflection of other people.”
You’re a mirror. You duplicate so well. But if we cracked you open, what would we find inside? Some dusty old journals and a chipped coffee mug? Who are you, really?
Or am I just imagining that I know anything about you at all?
“Ryan doesn’t love Alex. He falls in love with people he thinks he can save who, in reality, just end up saving him. He’s absorbing Alex. He’s a leech. He just mimics them, their traits, their being. Sometimes I’m not sure if he’s even sure of who he is. He’s just a reflection of other people.”
You’re a mirror. You duplicate so well. But if we cracked you open, what would we find inside? Some dusty old journals and a chipped coffee mug? Who are you, really?
Or am I just imagining that I know anything about you at all?