Note To Oneself

You tell yourself something, anything, until it becomes reality, your reality; that's why all of this has never made any sense to you. Your horror show was a dream, compared to the nightmare you were living. A gentle escape into the soothing pearl-like night. Your perfect oyster, filled with slime. You can't get out when it screams, "You're mine!" The world: it's a woman that you can't hit back. Words are like women, till it all turns black.