Hidden things
It's interesting how many people believe the mask. I swear that people could see through the mask and know, but then again most people don't care enough to look deeper. That's the sad truth. Even people who claim to care about me dearly don't see through the mask when I don't want them to. But sometimes, I wish they could see the truth, that beneath my smile and pleasant conversation, beneath the professional focus on my work, beneath my drive to be the best mom to my daughter and show her that I am happy- beneath it all, I am slowly dying inside. It feels like my insides are full of glass shards. It hurts to even breathe sometimes and takes everything I have in me to not break down in tears in front of everyone, to save my tears until after my daughter is in bed and I can let that pain escape in rivers down my cheeks. I say that I am okay. I say that I'm over it, that I'm not torn up inside. That it doesn't kill me every night when I lay down to sl