I am haunted. I am haunted not by evil spirits or foul creatures, but by my own self. I see things that can not be seen with the eyes, but must be seen with the mind. The things that I feel are as clear as the beating of my heart.
I can tell that they do not see my demons. They do not see what I see when I close my eyes. Nor do they feel what I feel in the very pit of my soul. All they see is the rage, my mask, that hides the pain. So long has it been kept hidden, that if I were to bare my wounded soul to the world, they would not look past the mask.
But as most prisons have bars and windows so that a person may look into, so too does my mask. If someone were to look into my prison, all they would see is the dying soul of a man left by the world. For I am dying, not of age or disease, but out of hopelessness.
While my body grow and looks healthy, my soul rots away within me. I can not see the future, nor do I know everything, but that does not stop me from know what lies ahead for me. I am condemned to walk the world a mere shell of a man. A man destined to be alone, even though I am surrounded by a world of people.
But I will go. My mask demands it, my rage hungers for it, and my hoplessness seeks the hope that I dare not dream of. |
