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What do you call it when fate plays with you that you've had enough? I don't think people ponder upon these kind of thoughts often enough to achieve answers. I am a book that holds millions of questions never answered...there is no hope not like I ever believed in it in the first place, it's made up to lighten the hearts that are already battered.

I do not have many secrets to hold that could ruin me but one thought alone would be enough to leave me shattered. "Is he enough, is it real or a facade.?" the feelings that are buried deep within could burst as they cannot withstand the pressure taking me down with them, which is why I keep them tucked away in a secret corner of my heart safe and sound. This is me. To the pages that hold me, where my thoughts find their form. And perhaps, in their quiet unfolding, you too will find a whisper to confide. As I let the story unfold.