I think I need to take some time to figure out why I am who I am.
it's funny, living your life, taking yourself through all your choices without truly acknowledging your own self,
so many times i felt hurt, alone, embarrassed and not willing to put the blame where it lies.
My life was uprooted for the first time that I could emotionally realize and it basically destroyed me for a year
I hid myself away, reliaing on the only thing that could link me to my past life. My best friend seemed to desert me.
it was like I was out of sight out of mind and it killed me, I haven't allowed myself to let people into my mind and heart
the same way since. I have so much hurt welled up, that I can't seem to process. Thankfully getting these words down
somewhere seem to relieve my ailment for a time.
As I write my....emotional biography, I don't seek a spotlight, just healing of a wounded soul.

Suddenly, darkness, destruction...rubble.

the sky went gray and enveloped all living things around.

beating, throbbing, the hearts of the lost and confused.

a hand out stretched, reaching, grasping to the heavens
as if pleading for notice, begging for a little light,

or a simple gust of air to lift the spirits of the wounded warrior

Consumed, refused, neglected, contained by the thoughts that are
forever present in the cage they call life. Tormented by ones self.

searing, touch, hope

...pain flowing from sources that always expressed joy,

distracted...
alone...
lost...

....helpless....

  There once was a famous painter, he held a gallery to display his life works.
People would come from far and wide to appreciate the artist, or simply catch a glimpse of his brilliance.
His works were abstract and yet powerful. The artist had been know for packing his painting full of the gleeful and lighthearted feelings that could make anyone smile, and many just came to find the sensation of their sorrows being lifted.
A rich collector attended the gala and was quite intent on purchasing one of the painters pieces, if not for the eternal happiness than for at least a beautiful work of art. As he browsed through the paintings and sculptures he came across a piece he liked very well. It was a mask, it was the face of a beautiful woman. The mouth had been formed in the shape of a smile, with the distraction of the light and flowing brush strokes, one may have never noticed that there was something just a little off about this piece, but none thought any different about the mask than they did about any of the other pieces.
As the collector stared, he fell more and more in love with the mask, and yet not only the mask...the woman that was portrayed upon it.He immediately went to the painter and inquired about the price of his artwork. The collector was shocked when the artist said that there was no price, and that he could have it free of charge, joy overtook the collector but the artist shook his head and said "be warned, the price may be small compared to the knowledge that it brings" The collector pondered this but didn't seem to understand, but he had received what he had wanted and took it straight home.
He gave it a place of honor, a place where it would be admired by all who looked upon it. But as he'd pass it from day to day, a growing feeling dwelled within him. a sorrow almost. He couldn't figured out why, so one day he decided to examine the mask. He took it from it's glass casing and held it in his hands. It was heavier than he'd recalled, and the face of the beautiful woman started to look as if the smile she had adorned upon her face wasn't a real smile at all. It was as if the only reason she was smiling is because she had no choice in the matter.
The man found it hard to look away from the mask, he was obsessed, trying to figure out why he wasn't getting the eternal happiness he'd thought he'd won.
Deciding he was going to take a look through te holes in the mask that were it's eyes, a horrible feeling crept over his heart. The failurs and disappointments of his life replayed over and over again in his heart, and it felt heavy. With every beat the pain grew, with every breath a tear would fall, and try as he might to remove the mask it was a task that burdened him to the point of weakness. Finally the man seperated himself from the mask, weak and sorrowfilled as he was, his face could not escape the smile that lay there.
The man looked at the mask in regret and yet astonishment, for instead of the beautiful womans face he'd grown to love...he saw his own.
In a rage the collector took it back to the paintor that very evening. He was unable to show his fury except through his eyes and his voice as he shoved the mask back into the arms of the artist. "What have you done!?" shouted the man even though his lips held the smile "I am cursed! Cursed with a never ending sorrow, such that I cannot shake! But no only that! But i am here as a confusion, I am physically weak, aching and in such a pain that I have never known, and yet here I am with a smile I cannot remove!" The Artist looked upon him unshaken, he shook his head and calmly said "The mask we wear will overtake us in the end. We hide so much behind the smiles and the lies that, that because the only thing people ever see and no one is to see the pain that you hide and therefore can never help" a tear streamed down the artists face as he continued "my wife wore a mask, it is the same as you wear now, I...never saw the pain that she was going through, and in the end it killed her." the mans breathing became slow "She told me about it, but by the time she had it was too late...she had taken her own life and I never saw it coming"
The art collector's eyes began to well with tears as he realized he'd been hiding his pain from the world, as much as he'd wanted to show it he couldn't help but hide. With his tears the smile washed away, the hardened shell that he'd kept for his safty was now gone, the collector embraced the artist and went on his way. From that day on, he lived a life free from carrying the burden alone and did indeed live happily ever after.