Giving up on something can be the easiest thing in the world. Or the hardest. Letting go of an event or person that you hold emotional ties with is one of the harder things. You route for someone to heal, to be happy, to get sober. Everything in your heart and soul wants this person to get better, and it becomes frustrating when they want anything but that. The mask of happiness was covered in a whiskey scented paint, laced with the powder of painkillers. You see the mask, and you recognize the scent of her breath without ever being near her, but not everybody sees, and they believe it to be genuine. It's hard watching people believe this fairy tale, but stepping in the way of the warmth that the thought of her being sober brings would be criminal. I couldn't bring myself to explain to her boys, my family, that she was not herself. I've spent countless hours, over the years of my life, that I have understood what is going on, trying to convince her to go to rehab, to clean herself up, to be a mother, an aunt, a sister, a daughter. Preaching till I was blue in the face. There's that phrase I spent years trying to comprehend. I understand it so clearly now, and I wish I didn't have to learn the way I did. The mask that we previously spoke on has taken to a new purpose. Now I was wearing it, this time, laced in a heart shattering happiness that I put on for my family. Most are familiar with this type of mask - whether we wear it in the little situations or big situations. It's become so normalized within this generation that it has become something that is justifiable. We wear this mask to protect our inner child from the pain and the agony. Our longing to be a kid again, overcoming all other emotions.