we're all fakers in our clown costumes with our painted on smiles and our cartwheels...

Maybe we are just fakers. Maybe you only see what I want you to see. Maybe she was right. We hardly know her, and she hardly knows us. Maybe she was right, the world only sees of us what we want to show.

Maybe i'm just a faker.

Maybe it was all fake. Maybe it is all fake.

Maybe you don't know me at all. And maybe I should tell you... But well, i don't want to. Cos... there's only one thing I do want. And only one thing I cannot have. Only one person who knows almost everything there is to know about me. Who, in fact, knows me better than i know myself. But it doesn't even matter anymore does it?

We're both suffering the same symptoms, yet neither of us is sick. So why this pain? So why this sadness? So why this complete and utter despair? So why this grey cloudy haze over our lives?