Truth or Nothing

Truth or Nothing

My eyes hurt from crying

My heart hurts from holding it in

And still I can’t tell you

Because I dread the hurt you’d feel

The hurt I would cause if you knew

So I walk past, holding my breath as you ask

What’s wrong?

You can sense something

You must know

Only a mother can notice a quiet change

When did you notice?

Was it when I let out a sniffle?

Said my allergies were the cause of my blood shot eyes?

The eyes that had seen a nonstop flow of salty tears, that forced me to catch my breath

The same eyes that focused on yours, and said I was okay

When did you know?

Do you know?

What do you think was wrong?

Can I even ask without admitting there was something wrong?

My eyes still hurt from crying

And my heart squeezes in anger for holding it in

But I still can’t tell you

Because I’d dread the hurt you’d feel

So I’ll take the pain, just to spare you my truth

Emotional Make-Under

People wear many masks.  Some wear a mask that makes them seem in touch with reality.  Some wear ones that distances them from what surrounds them.  And there are others who wear a mask in which it's as confusing on the inside as they are viewed on the outside.  Although masks can be needed, it often can create self doubt.  Doubt as to which face is truly the real one.  Believe me, it can be strange at times trying to understand who you are.

For most of my life, I've worn a mask.  I can't tell you to which person that face became faceless.  I cannot even fathom why a particular mask was created.  It's as if I was born to recreate images -- distracting myself from what I was:  a person lost.  Now, not every inch of me has been created out of false pretense.  But there were times when I had to "fake it to make it."  Some might say it's necessary.  But when you suddenly don't know which identity is real, you begin to freak out even yourself.  Sucks!

Year after year, relationship after relationship -- mostly friendships, I find it difficult trying to decipher my real self.  I know who I want to be.  Right?  And if I know who I want to be, why not just be that person?  It's sad, really.  I've become a good actress:  a fabricated person.  I need to learn who I am.  I need to dissect my personality and see where I started to pretend.  I need to try and be someone else.  Me.  Whomever that person is.  Wherever she is, I need to find her.

I need to try.

The old mask is beginning to crack.  Even to me it's quickly shattering.  More frequently than before, I'm wanting to escape.  Wanting to get away.  Simply running and going for a walk isn't cutting it anymore.  The playlists aren't distracting enough.  Racing thoughts and banging heads aren't relieving my mind.  I need more!  More pain!  More intense feeling!  I feel that, but I keep it inside.  Internally I'm breaking, and it's becoming apparent people are starting to notice.

So, I get away.  I leave them.  I turn off my phone.  I avoid all contact.  I avoid my own contact.  I scream.  I punch.  I slap.  Nobody's around to take the brunt -- that's what I'm use to.  I would never intentionally hurt someone else.

After a while I emerge.  All smiles.  Happy thoughts?  Positive statements.  Pleasing demeanor.  All is well.  Everything's great!  My mind rattled from earlier, and yet all I feel is the sting of former frustration.  Reoccurring moments that I often long for -- as if I need them like water.  A mask of substance; making me feel whole; less lost; more normal.  But that mask is shattering.  I can't even trick my mind to feel okay.

Head banging to feel the thoughts disappear.  Everything goes.  All my thoughts are now gone.  I lie, waiting for the constant stream of colors to stop pushing through my closed eyes.  The colors circle until I slowly open those same eyes.  I don't make any marks, but the quickly hidden lumps give me the reliability I need to breathe.  It's a way to remember.

When that mask is gone, what I felt will last.  And it can't be spotted.  I'm the same as before.  I'm happy, again.  Not before -- but I am now.  I have a new mask, and this time it's being crafted more delicately -- so that no one can see the lines.  No one can tell when I'm not fully put together.