Sick of Pretending

I am sick of pretending.  I wake up, but I go back to sleep so as not to face the day.  But then I must wake again; I mustn’t let them know that I cannot get up.  I mustn’t let them know, for they will only think I’m lazy.  I go to the kitchen, pretend to eat something.  Little do they know I just throw it away, but they mustn’t know, for they would think I am anorexic.
I’m sick of the face.  I want to let it free.  My real face comes out sometimes, but then I get the Look.  The Look scares me, but it warns me: my façade is fading.  So when I get the Look, I reapply my façade and I go about my day, the quirky, witty, dry, fun, loving, generous character she is.  I would be friends with her, because she is always there for her friends.
I need to be loved.  I need to love.  I cannot have one without the other.  I want to be held, yes, but I also need to hold.  I need to console, to be there.  I am a shoulder to cry on, but I have no friends with whom to cry.
But I cannot cry, because I must pretend.

Reviews

[ann marie]

Awwhhhhh..... so sad, yet so true

[eroticwings]

It was very deep. Very emotional words. I have given that face and received that face.