Sometimes I put the mask back on. I take it right back off though. It's too heavy for me now.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to let my walls crumble. Then I remember, and close them up tight.
Sometimes I think I feel too much. I don't mind.
Sometimes I catch myself humming. I wonder if anyone can hear me. I hope I'm not tone-deaf.
Sometimes I fall asleep sitting up, with my knitting still in my hands. The sound of the breeze through the palm trees is soothing.
Sometimes I smile at myself in the mirror, just to make sure I still remember how. I do, but it's not great.
Sometimes I know what I'm doing.
Sometimes I don't.
Sometimes I try to be sensible, but no one listens.
Sometimes I speak nonsense, and suddenly everyone's listening. And judging.
Sometimes I think I'm being myself. Then I realize I'm only mimicking someone else.
Sometimes I really am just myself. Most people ignore it and continue on like it's still the past.
Sometimes I feel like a child. Everything frightens me, and I just want to hide.
Sometimes I do hide. After a while, life doesn't seem so scary and I crawl out of my hiding place.
Sometimes I really want to laugh but can't find anything funny. I laugh anyway.
Sometimes I feel the weight of all my insecurities. I don't mean to be a pest.
Sometimes I don't mind that I'm as much of a child as I am inside. I wish more people could know it.
And sometimes, even if it does seem childish, I just really, really want to be held.
Right now, I want to offer the world a plate of warm, freshly baked cookies. I am happy.
Lynx
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