I've noticed just how good I am at pretending to be happy. People see smiles, they hear jokes, they see me 'happy'.........

But they just see the shell that I wrap around me. They just see the image I put out to keep away the questions. They see my defence to pity......

They don't see the chained up piece of flesh inside. They don't hear the screams of regret and suffering. They don't witness the self-mutilation of my soul...if those truly exist...and they don't see what inflictions others have unwittingly and unintentionally placed on my heart....

What they see are the smiles they believe to be true. They hear the laughs they believe to be genuine...and some feel the passion they believe to be real...but none of it exists

The confidence I had, the fire I felt, and the vigor I once had is gone...

All there is is the confidence I fake, the ashes I endure, and the sorrow I constantly feel....