Don't act like you know me, like you know me
I don't know you
It transpires that I "knew" very little
I "knew" very few
Expectations, prejudices, and blind trust
I filled in the gaps
To complete the storyline
To justify the anger and pain
Not only did I lie
Repeatedly
I wallowed in self pity
The dead friend...........alive
The hounded military cousin...............worked for and now living in the States
Did my childhood memories really happen, or are they also someone else's exagerated sanitised stories; absorbed, assimilated and converted by repetition into into concrete connections
