The Mask

I've seen many stories or poems about wanting to take off their mask and reveal their true selves. So, I made this story in return.

Everyday I wake up and put on a mask.

I carefully press it on, making sure to cover any flaws that may otherwise show during the school day.

I arrive at school with a confident aura. One that says you will never beat me.

During the school day, the words crying, fear, and nervous are simply not in my vocabulary any more. 

I have to watch every footstep carefully, for one trip, one mistake could be fatal to my reputation.

I humor people who deserve it with my small rare smile.

I keep an calm aura around me the entire school year. After all, there's no room for haters and crybabies on the top.

My mask states that I have to be a loner, but for some reason I still have plenty of friends.

People who wrong me are forgiven but never forgotten.

Traitors are cast away at a seconds notice. Sorry doesn't fix anything.

Enemies just met their worst nightmare.

Everyone's mask is different. Some people's require them to be smart. Some charming. Some aggressive.

Mine requires me to be a perfect loner. No, it doesn't require that from me. It requires the Pinnacle of Perfection. But I can't fulfill that.

I don't remember how long I've worn this mask.

But I've worn it so long that's it's become a part of me. The mask has become my personality.

And if the mask can be removed, I don't want to remove it. It's comfortable. It's secure. It's reliable.

It's me.