The masks we wear

Whether we realize it or not, we all wear masks, to protect us from the elements, to survive in harsh social environments. We mask our true emotions, our sadness, our hurts, the crippling rejections we face from time to time when we make the mistake of trying to connect with others.

Rejection stings like a thousand bees but we never show it, we carry on with fake plastic smiles, so others won’t feel uncomfortable with the pain we carry with us, a heavy knapsack of boulders; weighing us down but we can’t show weakness, so while we lay on the ground in sheer agony, we laugh it off to avoid the judgment of onlookers. No need for help, I’ll help myself. No need for medical attention, just leave me on the ground for a few more days and I’ll somehow manage to crawl back home.

Me, I have a mask and I wear it on occasion but most of the time I leave it at home, in a drawer somewhere. I forget my mask and all I can be is myself, I don’t have the luxury of hiding my pain for the benefit of others, what you see is what you get.

If life has given me joy, I might crack open a smile, giddy at the prospect of happiness, even if it’s short lived.

If negativity invades my space as it oftentimes does, a frown or an eye roll is sure to come. I don’t have a poker face, I can’t hide my emotions as easily as you, although I would like to at times, to be just like you.

I feel bitter because I want the happiness you so easily fake, if I had those skills maybe you’d like me more and want to be around me instead of avoiding the black cloud of emptiness that is my existence

I don’t know if this is me talking or the illness talking. I speak out of hurt and need to process all of this because the truth is fleeting, when your own mind decides to feed you lies and you believe every line, every damn time.