What fails and what not.

Words; they fail, me.

Words with actions seems to be so too.

The stabbing pain, after reading a personal note, I pictured the pain vividly inside my head. The questions are trailing along the surface, awaiting for its answers. But none could be heard, therefore answered. Or could it just be, that it was heard, but left to drift on its own? What was once said, were they lies? or just plain white lies to keep another happy.

The short essay written before my face, was something that could have killed me, if not, wounded me deep enough. Was it something I shouldn't have cared about, something I shouldn't have seen, or just something that should've been numb by now? Am I just helping myself to gain a little more sanity, see the reality or is it just plain stupidity?

Words; they will fail me, until one could say them without pretending. I might have lost my mind. Might have seen the fine line. Might have lost a part of me. Might have...

As the days pass by, the words I read, are my painkillers. I read them everyday, just so I don't stab myself anymore. I have failed my integrity, I have failed myself.

But as the pain resides, it all seems clearer. Maybe.