The Mask
The mask I wear is many. I can be what you want me to be. You say jump, I say
how high. I do not wish to cause trouble, only wish to please. You ask me how
I’m doing, I say just fine, no reason to bother you with my troubles. The world
sees my smile when deep inside I feel nothing, empty- so many emotions bottled
up, I’ve lost who I am, what I am and have no idea how to really live. Some
people can slam doors, pick fights, exercise their emotions out, and even talk
about it. Me, I wear my emotions on my body, the marks I possess screaming to
be heard, wishing I could just say the words to end my pain. The mask I wear
is what gets me through. I cannot let others see me as weak…I am supposed to
be the strong one. The one that is there for everyone else but me. My smile
lets everyone know I’m all right, no problems here. My smile deludes my heart
into thinking everything is ok, this is my world and how its going to be. My
laugh is heard so much, tears are never seen, or noticed. My booming voice is
loud above others so they may not see what I think in my silent moments. I take
control, I’m a leader, so that others won’t see that I’m weak, that I really
just want to be accepted and allow to be completely human. I succeed so that
others don’t see how worthless I really am. If I fail, it only cements my worthlessness.
I wear my mask every day, every hour, every minute. Even when I put the blade
to my arm, my mask says its ok. This is my release, this is my prison. The world
sees my smile, but they do not see me. They don’t see my true feelings, don’t
see me weep inside, wishing I was good enough to live. They don’t see how I
fight myself every minute of the day. Don’t see how I can’t look at myself in
the mirror. They don’t see me bleed in my weakest moments- the only way for
me to feel, to know I’m real.
The world sees my mask, but they do not see me.
