I am a mask. Or rather, all that they know of me is a mask.
A crumbling person in a shell of normality.
The most painful realization being, that i am not the only one.
A crowd of people, each one alone.
If only they knew each other's story.
A perpetuation of pain, passed from one to another for temporary relief.
I choke on the fakeness of it all.
The smiles to friends they mock behind their backs.
Pushing all around them down, to be just a bit above the rest.
We ignore the pain, but the ache is their.
For all the numbing we can muster, from humor, or drugs.
I dream of a liberation.
Not one of happiness, but of true sadness.
Of the acceptance of all the feelings we are told to ignore.
Of love,and hate, and truth.