Washed up shore.

And in an instant, all things come to an understanding. Her thoughts united with the facts that was just presented to her. Her eyes widened. The truth has come.

But did she want this?

Silence, what a loyal friend she thought. But not a great listener. All the songs in her life stopped playing. The sound from her music player played as if syncronized with the chain of events flashing by her eyes. There was no more making sense of the lyrics, her thoughts formed into words that developed into sentences that made paragraphs. This is certainly not new. But this was the only time she had a blank piece of paper.

But then again it was all so cliche.

And she decided to stop.

The world was not a better place if she were to start writing again.

And all the voices in her world came to a sudden, sullen end.
They were not to be heard of again.

Yesterday. Once more.

Heys.

Can't write here.
People know I write here.
And people thinks if they can read me, they'll know how I get by my days.
But truth is..

They have no idea.

No idea how I get by my days.

I have no idea how you get by your days.
But the difference is.. I don't have an intention to care.
Because I know your life is hard enough.
You don't need me climbing up your back,
you don't need me telling you what to do. Thats your conscience's job.
And i'm sure all of our conscience would do its best every single day, yelling at our actions.
So yes. I have faith in the better of you.

Sit back and have faith in mine.