April 26, 2012

submitted by melodic-blitzkrieg

Whenever I was sick of it all, the lies, the fake politeness, all the idiosycrancies of high-class New Yorkers, the tears would come like the rain in a sun shower, sudden and strong.

"Compose yourself young man" the nanny would drone, and I’d only bawl harder. I was 6, and emotions were something I wasn’t really used to.

I guess this was when I realized that everyone’s a thespian in their own way. Everyone wears a mask in public to mask their true feelings and thoughts from the world, because humans are vile, vile things.

And yet we try so, so hard to be absolutely perfect. It’s ironic.  

Irony. That’s the only escape, the only way I was able to deal with those years filled with fake people and things. Do things ironically and you feel differnt, you don’t feel bad about yourself because you know how you truly are. They’ll just never understand. I sought out someone who was raw like I was, emotional and powerful and intelligent. It was fun, really, experimenting with all those girls and boys, analyzing everyone and everything in sight.

At age 16 I understand more about love and life and philosophy than the average teen, I’d like to believe. Who knows? Maybe I just have some kind of complex in which I try to feel superior though intelligence. Another mask that’s just too intricate for me to see.

  1. melodic-blitzkrieg-deactivated2 submitted this to scribblingoutofthelabyrinth