She was once beautiful, you could tell. She had a pouty face and long straight hair. Her eyes were dark and held your attention when her sideways grin was there. She talked in a cute, love me, way and most were caught immediately.
It was a mask she wore easily. A mask worn for as many years as she lived. She didn’t put it on, she just never took it off. I lived wanting to see her, see the mask and feel that painted love. Time tends to play with the mind and all masks start to fade.
I remember the first time I saw her. Well, the first time I saw behind what she showed. It was a face of anguish, of wants and needs that were never truly met. She needed people to care, to need her, to want her….behind the mask she was nothing but a blank face.
The day I saw it, was the day I started to doubt. I felt the nothing more than the faded crooked grin. Her dark eyes became holes that let me see behind. What I once thought was beauty, was just a child, not yet grown.
I wished her well…and let my mind drift off to other things. In truth I saw my own mask. One I had worn longer. My mask made me see what was never there and made things beautiful. I took my mask off and allowed myself to see. She was not that beauty, just a girl still waiting to be. I lived with my patterns.
Story of my life…