The Mask


Imagine I am wearing a mask. And and nobody knows who I am or where i’ve. ome from. they just look at me and i look at them and I slap them hard for staring at me but actually they were looking at how beautiful my mask is yet they dont know its a mask. and they hate it for i had slapped them across the face with the force that would leave a mark.

imagine the next day i remove the mask and I go the the same person. He looks at me and i look at him and i hug him. He smiles back and I put a healling hand on his scar with a touch that would leave a mark on his heart.

imagine the next i go out and i meet another guy. I look and him he looks at me and he slaps me hard. I just stand there watch him fade in the crowd. and i see a face like him everywhere.

imagine the next day i go out and i approach a man and he slap me and I it left a mark.

imagine the same thing happens the next day and the next day and day after that and a week by now and i frantically wait for the healling hand to take my pain away and i go home

everyday i am being slapped and bruised and I only can see teh same face in the crowd and abscond my way home. 

imagine one day i went out i see the man i slapped. he looks at me and i look at him . in a moment of desparation i revealed my mask and broke it onto half. and he just looks at me and i at him. he bents down gathees the piece of my mask and throws it away and keeps one piece to himself. before he walks away he outs ahand of affection to my scars and vanishes in the crowd. 

that man is my conscience and the piece my lesson. i slapped my self everyday for i couldnt correct my past mistake.

imagine the next day i wear the same mask. and go out i redid my past. as there are plenty more where the broken one came from

2 responses »

  1. This is a beautifully written, insightful blog entry. I said “whoa” out loud after I read it. Thanks for sharing and keep writing. You are discovering something wonderful, yourself…

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