The Mind's Eye

Everything is horrible. Everything is beautiful. I have this bad habit to say I’m ok when I’m really not. I do this very often, practically all the time. I feel like I’m lacking balance. A bunch of negative stuff has happened to me all of a sudden and I have no significant positive experiences to counter them with. i have nothing to look forward to, my life is generally leading nowhere and I feel alone in a sea of people. Because really, we’re never alone. When I go to school, there are people there. When I go home, there are people there. When I drive, there are people all around me. I cannot talk to them, or touch them, but they are still there. We, as socially acceptable humans, have never been in a place were we could be completely alone. Only if you had camped out in the desert, and I mean right in the middle of it, would you be able to declare that you’ve been completely alone. I haven’t. I don’t know if it gets lonelier when there’s nobody there, but it sure as hell gets lonely out here with all the other people.

So everyday I wake up in the morning and look at the mirror and say to myself “I’m going to make something out of my day, today”. I usually forget all about it. I get dressed, I grab all the stuff I need to get through the day and I leave home. This happens five days a week. That’s 71% of my week. Usually I get to school relatively early so I put on a song on my mp3 player to get me through the walk from my car to my classroom. When I get there, I start pretending. My mask is so life-like that everyone thinks I’m a positive thinker who jokes around and tells everybody to keep believing in themselves despite how awful things may seem. I’ve had this mask on for the good part of seven years. I’ve become exceedingly good at pretending. Sometimes something bad happens, or several bad things happen, and I lose control of the mask. I appear as I really am to the people I’m with, but I can usually regain control after a couple of minutes.

I like my mask. I created the mask. The mask symbolizes the person I want to be, rather than the one I am. The mask is a creation of my subconscious to balance out the equation. It is a mechanism of self-defense against rejection, injustice, self-hatred and loneliness. It works perfectly. It is a near-perfect character developed to have hopes and aspirations. Created with pain-staking precision to be almost flawless in every aspect. Only the most perceptive people can realize that I’m actually wearing a mask, and they come once every few years.

I wear the mask because if I didn’t, I would have no self-confidence. Without the mask I am only a self-propelling blob of hatred and negativity. Also, without the mask, no one would like me. I know this because whenever I trust someone enough to take my mask off, they turn around and walk away. This has happened often. My biggest dream is to find someone that loves me with or without the mask. I would absolutely love to find someone who think’s I’m great no matter who I am that day. Often, I’ll be sitting on a bench with some friends and I’ll see someone who looks pretty. Then I’ll think, maybe she will accept me as i am. Then I think again.

That is why I write. I hate reality. I hate this world we are born to without being asked about it and which is so full of loneliness and bitter-sweet memories. A world of short-memories and people who talk using words that they do not understand. I also love this world, so full of adventure and amazement. So significant in every possible action. I have to re-write it. In writing I can create my own world, that works the way I want it to. People fall in love correctly and without regrets. If somebody gets rejected, It’s only because later they will find the one who will make them feel better and to realize my own personal dream. Every conversation flows perfectly and without hesitations or mistakes. Everyone knows what they want to say, when they want to say it and how. I often think that someday, someone will read what I write and fall in love with this world I’ve created. I often think that maybe there is someone out there that is looking for someone just like me, and spends long evenings thinking about the moment we will meet. I often think the world works like that.

Then I think again.


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