If the right words existed, then the music wouldn't need to.

That, by far, is my favourite-est title I've put up since my thoughts first seeped into this blog. (!!!)

Anyone can be truthful about superficialities.

"Often I think boys don't become men. Boys just get papier-mached inside a man's mask. Sometimes you can tell the boy is still in there." -David Mitchell

Words, thoughts, ploughing. Pushed underwater then dragged to the surface to take a ragged gasp of oxygen, then plunged beneath the surface again. Splashing, gurgling, heartbeat in your ear. A sharp cold that arrests your mind, numbs your eyes. Splashing, gurgling, heartbeat in your ear.

I don't have to explain everything, do I? It gets tiring after awhile.