The Mask

We all wear them, but why?

Different reasons, different causes, same hope.

You could easily say my mask was made by my father, but you’d be wrong.

Or maybe not, what do I know?

My mask is yellow, sunshine yellow.

At least, that’s what I assume.

By the way people react to me, it must be.

It is exhausting being someone else’s sunshine.

Everyday.

I have no sunshine. No person is my sunshine.

I don’t rely on others for happiness.

…yes I do.

I can feel so much more than they deserve.

So much more than they know.

I think too much, so much more.

It’s to distract myself.

My brain developed a way to protect itself.

It created a physical mask and a mental one.

My mental mask is many.

Many shapes, colors, and sizes because none of them are me.

They belong to other people although I feel them as my own.

They are a distraction.

If you took all my masks off, all there would be is gray.

Sometimes a deep gray, like the oceans.

Sometimes a dark gray, like a storm.

Sometimes a lighter gray, like a mist.

Then there’s tombstone gray. Solid gray.

That’s where the thoughts lead me.

The solid gray is too hard for me to penetrate.

Am I even brave enough to try hard enough?

Am I wearing the mask?

Or is it wearing me?

Which one is truly me?

Are they all a part of me?

Or none?

I can’t let it get quiet.

I can’t turn out the light.

Because there’s nothing left if I do.

Everything is nothing and nothing is meaningless.

Life is simply to distract you from the emptiness of existence.

So, will you wear your mask?

Or will you be brave?