Rosie_Blair05
Sometimes I want to let the mask fall, to never bend down and pick it up, but I'm never allowed to let it slip from my grasp. More like he won't let it happen. I'm tired of looking in the mirror and seeing the "corrections" that I've made to appease, but the bags under my eyes stick. My scars litter across me, small or big, I have them. I try, though. Every day I wake up, get ready, work, and more. I sleep restlessly, my dreams haunting or teasing me, but I don't mind how it fogs my head. Nevertheless, I put on a smile and tried to talk to others, pretending to be joyous and radiant, just like he taught me. I know one thing: I'll never forget the rules