Posted by Anonymous on 2013/01/08 under Uncategorized I want to get away from the fake people. The fake people who wear their fake attitudes like a fashionable outfit. The fake people who will someday experience fake love, and receive it in return. I tell them I am not real, I am fake as well. But I know that I am fake. They are blind to their actions. They do not realize the grandiose scheme that they are preparing to disappoint themselves with. I am not cynical, I am realistic. We are all fake. Yet few of us actually realize it. I am depressed realizing it. We worry about the future yet we should worry about now. We keep living for a fake future, yet forget to stop and stay mesmerized for a while. It is worth a moment. The fake people can dissuade us for so long until reality must kick in. A book stays on the shelf, hoping to be read someday, hoping that it’s truth will be unveiled to some young, curious eyes. It stays there, year after year, waiting for it’s moment of reality. Yet, it never comes and the pages yellow, the binding breaks, the cover falls off. It dies and, by the time it’s picked up, it’s truth is unable to be read, and is finally discarded. Our truth is waiting to be found, we are waiting to be discovered, craving attention and yearning for affection. However, the longer we stay fake and decomposing on the shelf, the more our truth is erased and unattainable. We must make a movement for truth or our fate is wasted away. I want to get away from the fake people. I want to find my reality, my truth, the contents of my book, before it’s too late.