Life is full of sporadic facades and intermittent moments, bits and pieces tattered with every flip of a page. And sometimes the struggles forge you into this impetuous cynic, averted by the water that you keep to hydrate. They leave you shriveled, bare and almost dying. Almost.
I cannot even begin to describe the pain that burn from the weight that you suffer, from the little left sanity strapped hanging on your skin. But you see, everything is pulled to inspire your spirit, to overwhelm your soul, to post a some sort of peace that allows a moment of quiet in this otherwise indulged and over stimulated space.