All i ever wanted was to belong. To fit in. To be a part of something. I really didn’t think i’d ever stand out and be important and special. I thought my camouflage was good enough. I walked into several worlds under false pretenses, i became a stranger to even myself. I managed to convince even my own self that i was happy. I wore happiness, i put it on every morning, i sprayed over me all day. I looked in the mirror and saw a reflection i didn’t recognise. She looked at me and laughed! Time passed, happiness became routine; I woke up, put a smile on my face, wore my “happy” shoes and started each day. I trusted my state of mind. I numbed into the reality of false joy. I was OKAY with it. Really, i was. When alone i tried to escape, in all ways. I couldn’t leave the mask behind. It was embeded in me. I wore it even in cases where true happiness was present. I doubted i’d ever know and appreciate it. My biggest fear then was if i ever found this happiness i’ve dreamt of and longed for all this time, would i recognise it? Would i appreciate it? Or would it, AGAIN, be a phantom? Would i be imagining it all over again. . .?
Or would i wake up one morning and feel so happy and content that i’d want to die that way than have to go back to my state of denial???
That morning came… I’m still here. I’m able to walk out without that mask. I’m feeling all kinds of emotions. I’m letting go, detoxing all toxic souls. I’m holding on, receptive to all positive energies. The only mask i wear is protective gear, only those with a code can get to me.
The rest. . . Non existant.
That morning came and i am. . . still here.
inkingthinking 