Your voice is nails on the chalk board to me, your words are irritating. Every thing that comes out of your mouth is just a regurgitation of things we've all heard. It's nothing you've ever experienced, it's only a story you've heard and stolen, pretended that it was your own. Perhaps you believe the stories you tell now, percieve them to be your own, perhaps you've heard them so many times that you actually believe they are. You're nothing, nothing but a bug under my shoe and a pain in my ass. I'm going to be so much more than you ever expected, and even then, you'll probably say how well you knew me.