The Masks of My Mind

Fake. Failure. Fraud.

Absorbed in the reflections of light cast from the drops of rain running along the window pane. So minute and fleeting. Similar to me. In this moment. In this life. Grasp at nothing, because no one is there. It’s only me bound in this prison of my minds own design, seeking out answers, longing for freedom and begging for time.

Which one is real? I often wonder the same.

The version that the world is most likely to see. A perfectly painted smile, laughter flows as easy ...