I was so sure of things, full of zest and vociferous fire, ready to argue down anyone silly enough to interfere or interrupt my perfectly concocted and infallible thoughts. But in time my opinions started becoming distorted, what I hated I begun to enjoy, what I thought I'd never be... I had to make a choice, would I hate myself or accept that I wasn't so right at all? I chose the second, and life grew to accommodate many of my dislikes and hates, with this evolution I lost some of my definition, especially since mine had been built on a high horse. Soon I stopped telling my opinions to strangers and acquaintances, I couldnt be sure, they didnt care and I didn't care. 'Fuck them' I thought... even if I know tasty secrets, fuck them.