Friday, May 25, 2012

The monster at the end of this book.

 I hate diaries. I hate them more than I hate anything. Why? Because everything has to be chronological and neat, placed precisely in the correct order. It's the opposite of the inside of my head, which is a disaster zone (trust me). What is this then? A random document I opened up on my computer to spill my heart and soul into when no one else will listen to me? Well, that's exactly what it is. I give no guarantees as to content or accuracy, and I will do all that I can to establish myself as an untrustworthy narrator. My inconsistencies will blind you to believing my every word, and the less that you trust me, the more you will love me and want to believe my lies as truth. Or perhaps it is the truth. Perhaps I'm just being modest, because I want you to seek your own answers, but I'm really telling you everything image for image, exactly as it happened. You decide.  

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