My eyes saw like this.
And then you don’t know who you are anymore.
And then you don’t want others to know who you really are.
And you don’t limit yourself to wearing a mask, no, you yourself become the mask.
You aren’t yourself when you talk to your wife. You aren’t yourself when you play with your children and you can’t enjoy their smiles, their steps forward in this world that you hate and from which you hide. You aren’t yourself when you are at work.
You are a mask and all the normality of a serene life is like a noose.
A mask that protects and at the same time entraps.
Protects from judgement and entraps you from the fear of not being able to get out of it.
And it distances you from others.
Who should you save; who should save you.
The others that don’t understand.
Petty, distant, harsh. While you’re in the abyss.
Why can’t they just give me to drink instead of wanting to save me? Instead of mistreating me? Instead of judging me? Why don’t they believe me?
I can get out of it. I can get out of it without them, they don’t understand. They don’t understand anything. Stupid people.
Stupid simple people that love me too much and can’t let me go.
But do they want to save me or the mask?
Their eyes, that saw me without, that saw me like this, frail and mortified, what more do they want to see?
Me or the mask?
What do they want to save?
Do they really want to save me?