I’m too transparent, that’s my crime. It’s all over me, if words make it hard for you to believe – there have been so many car trips, so many forgoten stories and casualties to prove what you wanted to hear. There have been others, before, who took hold of my mind, of my reason. We were partners, me and them, partners in crime against each other, digging each other for something unknown to who we were back then. Through pain we’ve kept going, through pain we’ve avoided numbness, through withdrawl we’ve tackled the feelings we were addicted to, the ones we’ve managed to forget. Through pain we tried to make something better.
You may well search my body for proof, if what I say doesn’t translate. I bear my truth and a past for which I will not apologize. It hasn’t been too long since I was blood, dreams, pain, fear, soul searching sex, and yes, I have some stories, altough I’m a no good fella, not even a good story teller, whatsoever.
My past happened before I was who I am now and that is a story I can tell, if your intention is to get to know me well.