Yep, is for this great artist
Yep, it is a journal feature for this great artis
MasksHow many masks do you have?
I have so many I've lost count.
I must have one for everyone I've met, and then some.
A mask of obedience,
a mask of honesty,
a mask of contempt,
a mask of annoyance,
a mask of innocence,
a mask of maturity,
a mask of joy,
a mask of tolerance,
a mask of understanding,
a mask of sarcasm,
a mask of hatred,
a mask of acceptance,
a mask of friendship,
a mask of an artist,
a mask of a writer...
The list could go on and on.
It's a relief when I come home,
when I'm alone, where I can be myself.
Or is that yet another mask that has slipped on without me knowing?
If so, then where is my true self?
Dreams1The sound of black boots against the concrete floor rang throughout the abandoned building, its rhythm in time with the ragged breathing that misted on the cold, dry air. A light blipped on the bracelet around her left wrist. "What is it?" she asked. "If you haven't noticed, I'm a bit busy now."
"Well then you're about to get busier," a young male's voice spoke through the ear bud attached to her left ear. "It seems more have woken up, and they're coming after the nearest food source. Namely: you."
"Well, that's nice to know," she replied sarcastically. "So, do you have any plans to get me out of here Jake? Because that would also a nice thing to know"
Maria opened her eyes. Another one of those dreams, she thought. The longest dream streak I've had so far. Snatching a notebook off her nightstand, she quickly scribbled down all the details of the dream she could remember, sketching out the buildings, writing as much of the dialogue as she could remember. Already
FallingIt was swelling up inside of me,
reaching out to engulf me in its infinite darkness.
It was enveloping me,
swallowing me up.
I was falling
into the darkness within me.
As I fell farther and farther,
despair rose up,
and I desperately reached for the light,
my small prick of hope,
but as I fell farther and farther
down into the darkness it became