Your familiar voice sinks into my ears and I'm all too comfortable yet again--I hate it. We sing out our stories and cackle amongst ourselves. Then it happens, as if on cue, we stumble right into your delicate lies. The ones you've told your friends, co-workers, and family. The deceptive story of our past. Your impeccable fallacies wreak havoc on me, ravage me. How many years must one age til he realizes the measure of his mistakes? How wrong must one do before he is sorry?

People are frustrating