Jan, 97~ The Bells

Do you hear? The bells. Hells bells. Ringing loudly in my ears. Death calling. Fear enters. Scared to live, scared to die. Who am I? Who was I? Who have I become? Hiding. Hiding behind a mask of happiness. Cowering in the corner like a child under a blanket of fear and insecurities. Scared to reveal me, the me that scares me. The one who knows what pain really is. The one who thinks things that the mask would never think or say. The one no one knows but me. The one trying to get out. But the mask won't let her out, afraid to show the truth to those who think they know me. Afraid to let anyone know the real me. Why? Fear. This "real" one is so drastically different from the mask, they wouldn't understand. They would sau I was insane, and in ways I suppose I am. In ways they may never be able to understand. In ways I don't understand. I have created this split that I so much hate now. The mask and the real one. When did I start hiding? When my innocence was stolen? Did I stop trusting then? Did I start hiding my bitter emotions, and only let my happy mask be seen? Afraid to let the world see I had been hurt? Hiding my anger, my bitterness. Never letting the world see just how angry I am inside, pretending to be the better person. If they only knew. If they only knew what I bitch I am within. The one who hates everyone who has hurt me, the one who dreams of revenge, who can taste their blood on her lips. The one who takes all the pain and lets the mask fake her happiness, so well that she thinks she really is happy. The mask is embarassed and ashamed of the bitch that she could even feel these things, that this may be just who she really is. The mask wants the be the loving, sweet girl who cares more about the world than herself. But the real me is a mixture of the mask and the bitch. The mask is all of the positive aspects of me, and the bitch is where I hide all of the negative. "I cry by myself, on my own shoulder" No one can see my negative feelings because I won't let them. I won't let my gaurd down and let them see the vulnerable crying soul that I am sometimes. I reveal too much when I reveal my pain. People can hurt me if I let them into that sensitive spot in my soul. People will know how pathetic and stupid I am and can be, if they know the crying side of me that hides behind the ever happy mask. "I'm in love with my sadness" Billy's words ring true to me. I'm in love with the morbid, sad side that the bitch represents. I'm in love with her words, the writings her tormented sould comes up with. The bitch needs the mask, the mask needs the bitch.