:: the following words are ones that have been sitting here in a line of unpublished posts for a while now. thought it was about time they got brushed off and published. ::
365 days in a year.
6,750 days in 18 years.
How can you think you’ve known something like the back of your hand for six thousand days and then three hundred and sixty-five days later know absolutely nothing.
It’s as if you walk away seeing one thing, and come back seeing a stranger who’s put on a mask and is pretending to be what you used to know.
They don’t look exactly right. They’re not acting themselves.
And neither is anyone around them.
Everyone smiles too wide, and every word from their mouth feels like they’re reading a script.
Their eyes look like they don’t care, but their dimples tell you they’re oh so happy to see you.
You walk away and the smiles fade and are replaced by whispers.
So you turn to someone else. Hoping they can explain. But you feel your heart sink into your stomach as you see them stop their own whispering and turn on that horrid smile.
It feels like a dream. A bad dream and you wish you could find an escape from this hell you’ve found yourself in.
How would that feel to have all these memories with someone, to think you know them and then one day see they’ve become someone else.
But the scariest thought of all is what if they’re not someone else. What if they’re not a stranger with a mask, but what if they’ve finally taken their own mask off?
It’s scary, yes. Because they were pretending with you this whole time.
It’s sad, because there can’t be anymore happy memories.
It makes you angry, because they ruined what you had. They took it and they destroyed it.
It frustrates you because they didn’t just ruin it for you, but for everyone watching you.
It brings tears to your eyes because it’s not just affecting you and them and the strangers watching. It’s affecting those closest to you.
And you can’t tell who’s wearing a mask and who’s not anymore.
You still have hope that one day everyone will wake up from this horrible nightmare and rip their masks off. That you’ll all look back and apologize because how could you let all that happen?
But you also hope they see the casualties and the damage that’s been done. You hope they see the once beautiful city that surrounded you both is in flames and smoking.
I hope you wake up one day. And I hope I’m there when you do.
Because I don’t know how much longer I can pretend for you.
I really don’t.
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