Who am I? I am a mask. My whole life I've tried to do good. What good is it if my actions goes unnoticed. What good is it if when people do listen they ridicule. All I wanted was to do good. I never imagined this would make me an outcast.

As I grew older, I understood what needed to change. Despite it all, no one cared. There I was, holding myself to a higher standard and trying to create change. As a result, I was left friendless and everyone ignored me. This opened the doors for the self-loathing and doubt. The day I became depressed is when I was noticed.

They saw my pain, my sanity deplete. It's funny how it all works. They ignored the love, but could see my pain. I didn't want their help. Why sit in a room full of suicidial patients, I don't need new ideas. I don't want anti-depressants, taking them depresses me. The trust between us was broken when you tried admitting me into a mental institution.

They want me to be happy, fine! That's when I began to put on masks. They didn't want me, so I gave them an extroverted clown! I'll socialize, I'll smile, anything to keep them off my back. And it worked. They let me be and my peers loved this imposter.

The love I once had for man was gone. Now I could see the world for what it is. It's a place of lawlessness and everyone is suffering. I thought, 'I won't be happy until all of it burns to the ground.' Society made me a psychopath.

Around others I wore masks to get by. I enjoyed watching different reactions to my multiple faces. It had gotten to the point that their were so many versions of me in my head I'd forgotten which one was authentic.

I was happy to discover I wasn't alone. The infamous clown prince of crime and myself bare many similarities. And despite his sick his antics, they always makes me smile.

Over time, my masks came off. The one that I wear now is new. It allows me to express myself without linking to the man behind it. Even if it did, it wouldn't matter. I'd forgotten who I was a while ago.
  • JoinedJanuary 25, 2016


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