I'm a pathological liar.
I like to pretend. I like to start fires.
I'm a pyromaniac,
I like white wine, Moscato.
I've been in love,
I've fallen out of love.
I'm afraid of the truth and tornadoes.
I like ice cream but I can't have milk, I'm allergic to certain fabrics.
I like touching silk.
I self loathe to no end, my self hatred grew a hand. It has paper, my fears gave it a pen.
I'm common, I'm predictable.
I'm average, I'm invisible.
I don't matter.
I'm just another person.
I have many problems, not just one.
I'm a pathological liar, out of all of this, pick a lie.