Everyday I wake up and I wonder if this is really reality? Has one third of my life really gone by? Why am I still stuck in a life that I hate? Is happiness even real? Is this all I am?
These questions float around my head from the moment my eyes open, follow me throughout the day, and leave when my head touches my pillow.
I look in the mirror and cover myself with positive affirmations, pasting a fake smile on my face. This is my make-up. The reflection that stares back at me is not the me I know. This is the person that you all see, but a stranger to me.
This fake me walks around, showing people that all is good and well. Radiating this fake happy. When deep down I am dying inside. Bit by bit I slowly crumble. Struggling to keep this smile from falling down. The scaffolding that holds it up, struggling to keep the weight up and buckling from underneath.
I want to scream at people to help me. I want to cry and claw at my skin. Ripping it off so the real me is exposed. But instead I smile and continue on with this facade; hoping and willing that something or someone will come along and make a big change to my non-existence. That there really is a pot of gold at the end of this shattered rainbow.
One day I will find my happiness. One day I can stop this pretense.
But until that day, I must continue. So I cover myself in fakery, smile one last smile at the stranger in the reflection, and walk out into a world that does not know me.