Its interesting, how many masks we wear. How many people we are all at once.

Daughter. Sister. Pretty girl on the street. Employee. Stranger. Teacher. Pupil. Artist. Anarchist. Lover. Quiet one. Bitch.

I remember the first lie I ever told, when I was a kid.

Sometimes I wonder, despite all of the other people you have to be, if I'm still in here too somewhere. Sometimes, its hard to tell.