Saturday, March 15, 2008

Masquerade

Finally, a real blog entry.no more poems. no more rhymes. Its been awhile since i last wrote something in this emotive, preoccupied, and confused blog. An hour from now, I would be having my Statistics class, and its palm sunday,geez... but enough bout that time to get to business...

Its been a long time since the day i stood up and left the masquerade and joined the people in the streets. It felt so good to have nothing covering your face, no masks, just your own little existense. Its a very relaxing feeling i tell you... soo relaxing its too scary to be true. People say removing the mask makes you real, but being real doesnt mean its better. I have countless masks...

When Im at school I wear a mask filled with colors, a mask painted with rainbows, a mask pleasing to others eyes. I am a social person, a person who easilly fits in a given crowd. People like me, Teachers think im smart, they say i could be a great leader and be a great person someday. But, then again, its not me. For I never liked too much company, I never liked laughing much, I never liked to be looked upon. I never liked standards of how you should live life, but reality tells me that in society...it is necessary for you to fit in, to reach the standards and be accepted. Soon the colors of this mask shall fade...but before that happens, ill use it to reach the standards...and when im on top...ill change it...then the world shall revolve in my palm...

A blank mask creates the illusion i need when people starts to get to know me...They see nothing..They see just eyes, and hear just words...no emotions...no nothing...just a blank face staring back, talking back... You might think im scared or what...but believe me...It is necessary... Its been only a few times when this mask was removed by someone...those people i call not friends...but rather blessings... For they took time to see beyond the shadows and behind the mask....someday, this mask shall be removed and placed in a box...and that day...would be the day this little red beating thing in my chest would stary trusting...

It is a logical sin to assume that being real means being true and that being true means being better... The world is imperfect...and so am I...

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