I've lied before and I'm sure it will happen again.
I've lied to the point that i don't remember the truth anymore.
As if this fictional account has transcended the boundaries of experiences and pronounced itself real.
but why wouldn't it be real? Once something occurs it's stored away in the outskirts of our memory which in turn become their own tainted and distorted residue of what was perceived previously. Our minds distorts occurrences, through an intricate process of selection we retain what we value of any given situation...so moments are in essence a violation of actualities the instant they cross over into existence to our perceived realities.
reality is a doubtful collection of instances that are a violation of the essential nature of things...so who cares if what i say is real or made up...it's as real as i desire it to be.