Living through past memories, going over and over until I've bled them dry. Soon they'll be nothing. My words will hold no meaning and my experience will all be just what I've seen in films. I can define parts of myself from my past but where's the line between that and the past defining me? If I speak words of wisdom it's due to self obsession, If I offer gestures of kindness I don't expect it to be taken without something in return, and if I love you - don't expect it to be anything more than a need for you to love me back. I've grown tired of being lodged in a past where I'd become nothing but routine.
I am not my family nor friends.
I am not my successes nor failures.
I am not my regrets.