I want to tell the truth
but it's harder than it looks
when I don't know where the line
that divides memories and fantasy lies.
I eat numbers
and rehearse every line I'll ever say,
I crave hunger
and all I know how to do is cry
because nothing ever satisfies.
Is that real or made up?
Do I hate what I am
or just hate me for hating's sake,
because I'm me and I can't ever escape?
For having to be the one
that will forever be there,
for not being able to leave myself.

A line dividing memories from fantasy,
can you show me where it lies?
Because I want to do what I think is right, but now I'm hungry all the time
and nothing ever seems to satisfy.