The Mask

The Mask

The thoughts that follow any bad decision are what you’d expect.

Guilt.

Sadness.

Regret.

My mind is consumed with all three.

But what hurts me,

tears me down,

breaks me,

Is the hatred.

The guilt and regret don’t amount to nearly as much 

as the feelings of hatred towards myself.

My eyes threaten to spill tears,

My mouth threatens to let out sobs,

My hands threaten to shake

As I take in what I’ve done.

Process it.

Question it.

Hate it.

Hate. Me.

But I keep everything in.

I go about my day and try to conceal the illness behind dark eyes and a fake smile.

But behind the mask is a girl who is tired.

Tired of living in hatred.

Tired of spending every second thinking about how ugly she is

Inside and out.

But nothing changes.