Basically, I lie to myself.

My imagination has it's weak points, especially when it comes to dealing with the truth. It falters the very existence of the term truth, erasing it's defined meaning, which leads me miserably tearful. The amount of tears rolling down my cheeks, in it's purpose of subsiding the truth, somehow began as a immature tradition that I can't fully penetrate mentally. It has become more and more of a bad habit that eats inside of me, crawling it's way to my solid state of mind. I believe it's due to a contract made by none-other-than a difficult part of my mind. Without the truth, my mind directly finds a illogical and irrational explanation that sum-up to assumptions. Again, leading me with tears, gasping for some sort of answer that'll lead me into a new light. Basically, I need a new insight on fighting myself quickly before I damage more than just me but everyone else.

Trying to understand.

You and I.
That's how simple it can get-how far it can go-as much as I'm willing to give.

(as much as there's complicating and senseless things in the process.)
(without us falling apart.)
(which includes everything that I don't ever want back because in truth you deserved or will deserve it.)

Emergency Ticket.

I'm on thin ice and I know you've noticed it too.

So there's this momentary pause after every supposedly gratifying line you've said and yet you can't redeem yourself to confront such madness that's held within that pause I've made. For your lucid unnoticeable yet peeking eyes, afraid and lost. ...I am speaking in behalf of something I can't truly say... As much as I've tried to say what you think is completely wrong; it's correct to me. You are merely a figment of my imagination, collusive with something not embarking, because you hurt as I laugh. I break as you cry. I don't understand what grounds I'm trying appease but in truth; I am lost within myself and you. What am I to make of what you've given me and what you've taken away? You are not what you were, and surely you are my diminishing piece of art. A mold once beautiful without blemish what so ever, up until now. You have done away, vanishing before my eyes with intensifying color by the hot molten lava like sun. Abused and misused with beautiful pigments unforgettable to my eyes. Just a memoir will be kept for your behalf and mine.