(Source: ladygagaxblackandwhite)
When I look back on my life, it’s not that I don’t want to see things exactly as they happened, it’s just that I prefer to remember them in an artistic way. And truthfully the lie of it all is much more honest, because I invented it. Clinical psychology tells us arguably that trauma is the ultimate killer: memories are not recycled like atoms and particles in quantum physics; they can be lost forever. It’s sort of like, my past is an unfinished painting, and as the artist of that painting, I must fill in all the ugly holes and make it beautiful again. It’s not that I’ve been dishonest, it’s just that I loathe reality. For example: those nurses? They’re wearing next season Calvin Klein. And so am I. And the shoes? Custom Giuseppe Zanotti. I tipped their gauze caps to the side like Parisian berets because I think it’s romantic, and I also believe that mint will be that mint will be very big in fashion next spring. Check out this nurse on the right. She’s got a great ass. Bam. The truth is: back then at the clinic, they only wore those funny hats to keep the blood out of their hair, and that girl on the left? She ordered gummi bears and a knife. They only gave her the gummi bears. I wish they’d only given me the gummi bears.
