26-30, M
I am a mask
About Me About Me NotesAbout Me
Who am I? I am a mask. My whole life I’ve tried to do good. What good is it if my actions goes unnoticed. What good is it if when people do listen they ridicule. All I ever wanted was to do good. I never imagined this would make me an outcast.
As I grew older, I began to understand what needed to change. I wanted to create happiness. Despite my intentions, no one cared. There I was, holding myself to a higher standard and trying to create change and as a result, I was left friendless and everyone ignore me. This opened the doors for the voices within, the self-loathing and doubt. The day I became depressed is when I was noticed.
They saw my pain, my sanity deplete. It’s funny how it all works. They ignored the love, but could clearly see my pain. I didn’t want their help. Why sit in a room full of suicidial patients, I don’t need new ideas. I don’t want your anti-depressants, taking them depresses me. The trust we had was broken the day you tried admitting me into a mental institution.
They want me to be happy, fine! That’s when I began to put on masks. They didn’t want me, the quiet intellectual, so I gave them an extroverted clown! I’ll socialize, I’ll smile, anything to keep them off my backs. And it worked. They left me alone. They let me be any my peers loved this imposter. They couldn’t see the tears shed in silent or know that I was breaking inside.
The love I once had for man was gone. Now I can see the world for what it is. It’s a place of lawlessness and everyone is suffering. Everyone wore masks to disguise the pain inside. I told myself, ‘I won’t be happy until all of it burns to the ground.’ Society made me a psychopath.
Around others I wore masks to get by. I enjoyed watching different reactions to my multiple faces. It had gotten to the point that their were so many versions of me in my head I’d forgotten which one was authentic.
I was happy to discover I wasn’t alone. The infamous clown prince of crime and myself bare many similarities. And despite his sick antics, they alway put a smile on my face.
Over time, my masks came off. The one that I wear now is newly formed. It allows me to express myself without linking to the man behind it. Even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. I’d forgotten who I was quite a while ago.
Read more at http://www.theorlandogray.com/bio/#W8iCYzM0sRGukyTU.99
As I grew older, I began to understand what needed to change. I wanted to create happiness. Despite my intentions, no one cared. There I was, holding myself to a higher standard and trying to create change and as a result, I was left friendless and everyone ignore me. This opened the doors for the voices within, the self-loathing and doubt. The day I became depressed is when I was noticed.
They saw my pain, my sanity deplete. It’s funny how it all works. They ignored the love, but could clearly see my pain. I didn’t want their help. Why sit in a room full of suicidial patients, I don’t need new ideas. I don’t want your anti-depressants, taking them depresses me. The trust we had was broken the day you tried admitting me into a mental institution.
They want me to be happy, fine! That’s when I began to put on masks. They didn’t want me, the quiet intellectual, so I gave them an extroverted clown! I’ll socialize, I’ll smile, anything to keep them off my backs. And it worked. They left me alone. They let me be any my peers loved this imposter. They couldn’t see the tears shed in silent or know that I was breaking inside.
The love I once had for man was gone. Now I can see the world for what it is. It’s a place of lawlessness and everyone is suffering. Everyone wore masks to disguise the pain inside. I told myself, ‘I won’t be happy until all of it burns to the ground.’ Society made me a psychopath.
Around others I wore masks to get by. I enjoyed watching different reactions to my multiple faces. It had gotten to the point that their were so many versions of me in my head I’d forgotten which one was authentic.
I was happy to discover I wasn’t alone. The infamous clown prince of crime and myself bare many similarities. And despite his sick antics, they alway put a smile on my face.
Over time, my masks came off. The one that I wear now is newly formed. It allows me to express myself without linking to the man behind it. Even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. I’d forgotten who I was quite a while ago.
Read more at http://www.theorlandogray.com/bio/#W8iCYzM0sRGukyTU.99