Mask

My brain, intriguing to outsiders yet full of hatred. Not towards others but towards me. It can't help but remember all the bad that had happened to you. Especially when someone decides to stab you. You'd laugh at it, thinking about how much it hurt. It hurt to know that they were just like your outer shell. The one day you needed to talk you went to them. They half ass listen until you tell them how fucked up you are. You tell them less than an eighth of what really goes on and then they say no. They give you small gestures about how “they didn't sign up for this” thinking they are being sneaky. Yet, it is the first thing you notice. Not their blank stares, there “helpful” words but there look of disgust and disapproval. Its simple to tell they don't like that side if you. Then the next time they see you they can't help but say,

“It kinda gets stuck in your mind, ya know, about what you said.” Another way of saying they would rather hang out without someone who is messed up. You leave early and keep yourself from falling apart. It's hard to know they don't love you. It hurts but you'd rather be a loner than continue wearing the mask you painted yourself to hide the bruised heart you have.