Saturday, November 3, 2012

Masquerade

I'm not sad anymore. I'm just angry. I want things to be different.
I want my life back, the one where I smiled and I meant it, laughed because I was happy, and I knew who my friends were.
I don't know who they are. I know I lost one. I don't know why I'm friends with another. I don't know how to make it better.
None of them know me.
I don't really know me. I don't 'get' me; I don't want anyone to 'get' me.
I am hidden behind a mask, and I don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror. My life is a masquerade.
Only one person has any idea of what is under the pretty face, and he turned it down.
I am a mask, and I am afraid.
I wear my face and it fits like a glove, but underneath, I am misshapen from being hurt so often.
What if I let someone else in and they make it worse?
All I know is that one day, it will be more hurt than everything else combined, and that day, I will not make it to the kitchen.

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