The news is still outside of me. Every breath does try to draw it in but my body knows that the moment it lets the consciousness get a hang of it, everything inside will be ruined. It is so severe, the realisation! The mind refuses to grasp it, heart denies its acknowledgement and the soul doesn't recognise it. Such is the fate of the writings on the wall. Right in front yet every pore chooses to be unaware of it. Sooner the eyes read it and pass it onto the inner world of my oblivious self, better it will be.