The Mask, By Rachel S.

The Mask
By Rachel S.

Because of Halloween, I have been thinking about masks. The power behind them and the way that they affect our lives. And what I came to realize was that I wear a mask year round. Anyway, after a really long time of thinking about my mask, I wrote this.

I wear a mask
It hides my thoughts. My dreams. My plans.
It hides my pain. My longings.
Like a big piece of tape-my mask holds me together.

Like an anchor-it is dragging me.
Dragging me to the bottom of the deepest ocean.
All I have to do is let go.
But it’s not that easy.

I know- I must know- that if I don’t let go,
Let go of the lies I believe.
My mask will kill me.
But I don’t let go. I must hold on.

“My mask is very comfortable,” I tell myself.
When I wear it I know how my life will be.
I’ll have friends, I’ll be popular.
I’ll never be alone.

I’ve told myself my mask is comfortable.
I almost believe it now.
But it’s not.
It makes me lose sleep. It’s hot. It makes me sick.

My mask is slowly killing me.
It’s killing the very innermost parts of me,
Those always go first.
Or so I’ve heard.

My mask isn’t moving though.
Because it comforts me.
I suppose because I’ll know what each day will bring.
And that I’ll never be alone.

The truth that I don’t hear about my mask.
Is that with it on, I’m always alone.
That I’m dying.
My mask is killing me.

“Take it off,” I hear a voice say.
I turn to see a man.
His clothes are white.
Yet, soaked in blood.

I finger the mask. Longingly. Waveringly.