"Well, I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette. A lifeless face that you'll soon forget."

She was. For far too long, she was - a fallen visage that everyone soon forgets, a figure stuck in her own dimmed universe.

There are no tears though. She doesn't let herself cry, but the tears, little did she know, were catapulting inside of her. So instead, she would put the speakers on, turn the volume to the maximum allowed, infinitely play Fleetwood Mac's Landslide or Daughter's Youth, then blankly stare into nothingness, fall into her deep sea of thoughts and back into her rightful senses.

She would do this over and over again, for this was her covert reality that not a soul knows of. However, everything still remains. Her mind is still chaos and her callous heart was no help at all.

All those self-made empty little cosmos have been devouring even the tiny blot of happiness left, even the dying spark of hope there is. Or was she just too afraid to concede? Or maybe not; maybe she was too afraid to be notice. She wanted to leave this wholly formed world, and find a new one. But she doesn't know how, she was stuck and broken and fragile - clinging to her reckless self.

Nevertheless, above all these, she would smile and keep telling herself: "Stay strong self, better days are coming."