Sometimes I wonder if my memories are just dreams. If they're things I made up; they didn't happen to me. If I gave myself years and years of pure dishonesty- compulsively redeciding what my past should be. Did all those events, conversations, lies never even take place, and how can I be sure? What if these things I'm remembering never even occurred? What if I'm crazy and nobody has told me? What really happened all these years? Did I not have to shed all those tears? Maybe I danced and sang like a little child would- was the world happy and feel as it should? Was I taken hostage and never let go? Am I in this room right now, or is this just a mind show? Where am I at, and where have I been? Does that affect where I'm going and who I am?