Dear Mask,

You’ve leashed yourself onto my face and sucked out the truth from my being. I have become a clown – hiding my pain behind false smiles as I conceal my porcelain heart, thinking that’s the only way to be protected. I am juggling depression and anxiety with the colourful disguise of laughter. My lips lie without words and no one will know until I speak. 

I can’t speak. Tears strangle my throat and hold the words from coming out. When they do, it feels like puking out the toxins of the past I wish I never lived. The fires of my hell burns deep in my stomach and it aches. Even through the good, the hurt eats at my subconscious and give fuel to my fears. 

I am afraid. My mind is a prison I’m not always sure how to free myself from. I know that the thoughts are not true, but I don’t know how to make them go away. Zombies pick at my brain as vampires drain the energy out my body – causing me to feel weak and powerless. 

I will not let you win. I can see your cracks in the mirror. The lines of emotions are peering through, and I am learning to love every piece of my real face. 
–The Broken Clown

Julie Alcin


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