After every day’s toil and break, I can only put on this façade which unfortunately seemed to be the best remedy. What you see is not what truth actually is. Dash it all, its just so hard to live under your shadow. How did it ever come to this? This making, unmaking, remaking drives me sheesh. The worst part was that everything’s in perfect working order, seemingly nothing for me to fret over with. It was just those moments of nothingness that made me worry how did I ever came to survive this daily shower of bullets, lodged into me, a part of me, numb within. Extrication hurts. Why did you try? Innate within, intrinsically part of me. Don’t move, it hurts.