Question.

So another day goes by. With shards of memories piercing the conscious and jutting out just precariously, enough to cut through the subcutaneous tissue; if by chance you happened to trace it with your hands.

Confused?
Don't be. That sentence made little if not absolutely no sense.



So many things. So many headaches. So many dizzying prospects.

And yet, all I indulge in is some serious trespassing of moral and social boundaries within my mind and blurt out words as sweet as mint lime.

To be vocal is good; I was told, but where exactly do the filters come in place?
Why the filters in the first place?
I can never understand the necessity of a filter.
Why fake that we're as ripe as fresh apples when in reality, we are rotting?

Why?