I am the culmination of junk and pictures, and borderline random lines and colours, smeared across virtual pages on the ether net. I am the collection of tiny grains of sand you can't fish out of the bottom of your shoe after you go running on the beach. I am the small stack of papers that you kept from your senior year in high school and have been reluctant to throw out for the past five years, so they sit on a dusty shelf for you to pass your eyes over them occasinally, but rarely ever pick up and go through. I am the boring hit single that sounds familiar because it's the recycled regurgitated backlash of all the other hit singles that have come before and the forerunner of the hit singles yet to come. I am the guck that forms around your faucet because of years of sediments, chlorine and other impurities. I am forgotten books and scratchy movies, the smell of laundry and the softness of shag-rugs. I am your hero if your hero is imperfect, and your savior if your savior is human, and your enemy if your enemy is kind-hearted, and your friend if your friend is selfish. I am forgetful and spontaneous, frightened and sometimes courageous, life-like and almost real, but I am just words on a page.