I have a beautiful mask on. It shields me from negative flack. I put it on so no-one and nothing can hurt me. I wear it well. It makes me look good. You would think I am actually happy. But thats the whole idea of a mask, isn't it? I fake it all.
I don't want him/her/them to find out that I have my weaknesses. I don't want anyone to know what the real me goes through inside. It is but a tiny price I have to pay for a wee bit of privacy. There is nothing special about me but if you knew me well, you would pity me, in fact, you would come running to my aid because I deserve your sympathy.
Still, I carry on with hope that someday/one day when the world does come to an end, I will be one of the lucky ones who leaves behind a legacy that all men will be in awe of. I want to be on that mountain-top, wind blowing in my face, people chanting my name as I take a deep breath and say, 'It is finally done."
The mask will then come off.
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