Daylight comes once again as the alarm clock sounds, rudely reminding me that I’m still here. I go through the motions of the morning routine.  After coffee, I grab my keys, slap on my plastic smile and head into the world once more to go through the motions of “living.” All the while, my heart has turned to ash and I no longer care if I live or die.  Such is the existence I endure.

I’ve heard the prattle so quickly spat at me by those who have no clue what it’s like in this world in which I exist.  People don’t understand.  The few who do understand are much like me in that we all have the same darkness within.  The whispers which constantly assail my mind bid me to “just drive off the bridge, no one will know and your pain will be over” or “there’s a stout concrete column, see how fast you can go before you collide with it” and “you have the means strapped to your side.”  The whispers never stop for anything.  Even while I am having a plastic conversation with someone, the whispers still seek audience and are incessant.

All the while, behind this smiling mask I hide.

2 Replies to “Masks”

  1. This entry reminds me of the “l’appel du vide”, which is translated to the “call of the void”. It’s the feeling of standing on the balcony of a tall building and feeling an almost irresistible urge and morbid curiosity to jump.

    Liked by 1 person

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