When I look back on my life, its not that I dont want to see things exactly as they happened, its just that i prefer to remember them in an artistic way. and truthfully the lie of it all is much ore honest because i invented it. Clinical scicology says that trama is the ultimate killer. memories are not recycled like atoms and particles in quantim physics. they can be lost forever. its like my past is like a unfinished painting. and as the artist of that picture i must fill in all of the ugly little holes.
Its not that ive been dishonest, its just that i loathe reality.