August 15, 2011
By HeartMindSoul GOLD, Port Aransas, Texas
HeartMindSoul GOLD, Port Aransas, Texas
11 articles 53 photos 27 comments

Anger boils inside me as I feel the urge to break something, make it hurt or feel as broken and incomplete as I do.

I claw frantically at the mask plastered to my face, but it is too late. The mask of what I have become is fused, glued to my face by pretension, disfiguring who I am. Behind it lies my imagination, my sensitivity and even my fear.

When I glance at my reflection, I see a stranger. Staring back at me from the death cold mirror are two large, frightened eyes that I claim as mine. But they are set in the face of a monster, who consumes me slowly from the inside out.

I long to feel the weight and tension of the mask lifted, but then, without this mask of horror, I am nothing. I have no power, no charm, no women throwing themselves at my feet. But is that really what makes me happy? Or maybe this is why I train myself not to think? For when I do, it brings unhappiness.

There comes a knock on the bathroom door that shatters my panic.

"Katie, you in here?"

Slowly, my hands drop from my face as I gaze into the mirror. I give the monster a forced smile. Something is wrong. Tenderly, I bring my hands up and readjust the mask. Image is all I have.

"I'm coming, Kayla"

The author's comments:
I really hope you don't relate, but I know some of you can.

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This article has 1 comment.

Harebelle GOLD said...
on Aug. 17 2011 at 2:18 pm
Harebelle GOLD, Vancouver, Other
14 articles 1 photo 121 comments
This is so good! I'm surprised no one has commented! It's really meaningful, and seems very realistic. Keep writing! 


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