Paranoia could define my inner self. On the outside, though, I’m basically smiles and soft breathes. It’s like I don’t have any other desires, wishes and hopes have just faded away with unfelt feelings I once thought I’d have.
At the same time I wish I would yell whispers struck on my throat, I want to be quiet, just observing how far it’ll take me, how deep it’ll drown me, how breakable it’ll make me.
I lost faith on myself, and I just don’t believe words are meant to mean anything. In the end, words don’t hurt, words don’t heal… words are just vain words, and actions show what is really meant to say.
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