The morning sun rises, so does she thinking about what face to wear today. Her eye bags are going to be mistaken for weakness, she thinks, “maybe I should put on some make-up”, ya surely they won’t notice.
Not being able to spread your wigs and fly, your wigs will surely die. This little fragile heart trying to be strong as a hawk, because that’s what they expect her to be.
Constantly judged in her appearance, she doesn’t not even know who she is. Wearing this face gets easier than wearing her own, I mean that’s what they want to see.
She wears this face as if it was her own, it’s smile, broader than her own, laughter surrounds her where ever she goes, loved by everyone except herself.
The sun sets, her eye bags are once again exposed. She looks in the mirror, she does not recognise her own reflection. “This fragile, brittle heart can never been seeing”, she tells herself.
Tears run down her face as she utters these words, words that have become her daily bread; “It’s all going to be alright”. Her mind does not believe it anymore but it’s the only thing that her fragile heart lies to her about…
Wearing this face is all she knows, frightened by the fear of knowing ones true self, she is.
Another day awaits as she carefully arranges her dresser, faces for every occasion lies in them, more than the outside world can imagine…