"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."
Sorting hat you must be drunk alright. severly and utterly wasted because what Maybe I thought about my answers too much or something because I wanted the opposite of this. And let the identity crisis begin.