I wish I knew how to shut my fucking mouth, I wish I knew when to stop, and I wish I could keep my bullshit ego in check.
My hands are dripping, my wave of lies muffling me from the outside world. I'm a wreck and I know it.
On and on and on, like a broken record. Family this, family that, it was funny at first, but now it makes me fucking sick.
I know I'm annoying. I know it. You don't have to tell me.
Don't just say it, scream it. Let the toxicity of your words strike me down, the very venom off every syllable poisoning me down to the core. Yell at me, get the point through my stupid fucking head.
But it never gets through.
Never.
Did you know lies were created by my great-great-great...
No.
You don't care, do you? It's okay, I don't either. My lies are all I have.
What am I? Nothing. Just a cheap throwaway character in the television show of life.
...God.
Hit me! Bash my fucking face in, any attention is better than being forgotten! Crack my skull until I forget my own name!
I don't need you to do that, though. My name is so easily forgotten. You only remember me when you tell me to shut up, when you talk about how annoying I am, seething with rage...
Am I okay with being hated or not? I don't know. I wish I could make up my fucking mind, I'm like an old grandfather clock, swinging back and forth, back and forth...
Speaking of which, did you know my grandfather invented...
Actually, no.
Forget I said anything.
Everybody always does in the end.