Another night slips by, precious hours lost. I continue to push myself to seemingly new limits; a cruel test of endurance. Self-inflicted. The reasons are not reasons, but excuses that won’t ever justify. Screwed up is my circadian rhythm, has been for a while.
I’m tired of keeping it together, of rearranging my features in attempts to appear, act, behave and talk normally. So tired. It would be easier if I really was the someone they believe me to be: so carefully put together and delicately balanced. Robotic, you mean.
This masquerade has proved it’s worth and fooled many. As much as I want release, I know I can’t. Maybe later. I just need to last a little longer.
For the smile.
