Sometimes I wonder how a face can hide so much behind it. How can a face, the size of a rugby ball be a shield to so many memories, thoughts, feelings, lies and cynicism. How can any of this be really happening? Why? First comes the shock, then the doubts, the questions and then the assumptions. Do they all represent something other than black and white? Why is everything so grey? Grey. The colour of gloom. The colour that is in between white and black, representing the indecisiveness of the two. A pathetic colour, that should never have existed in the first place, so that the world wouldn't be so confusing.

It's not within my rights to probe further. I'm just a curious third party, not an intruder, just an indirect victim. But really, how can this be happening? How can you bare to hurt the person I trust most, I respect most? Was all love lost? Did someone hurt you just as bad? There just has to be a reason.

I just wish, I just wish that they never hid all these behind their faces. Then maybe, just maybe I could understand better. Then maybe I could comprehend their complicated thoughts. If only feelings were laid down neatly like scalpels on a doctor's operating tray. When they seem harmless and yet they cut, just once but right through the body...