Short Stories and Musings

Musings

I go to a masquerade everyday: it's called school, or workplace, or corner-store. The most beautiful faces are on display, paired with 'self-expression' through fashion. I sit and stare at the lovely sight, hearing the sonorous voices recount the adventures of the weekend. I buy into the stories, but I know that they are only stories. Inside, they hide pain. Oh, yes they may complain about all the problems they have, but no one shares what really hurts them.  The masquerade is just a masquerade. Shallow masks restraining the bulging flood of raw emotion that always threatens to spill but is always in check. No one wears their heart on their sleeve. They only wear masks of glamour and security. And by They, I mean We. You and I, the Reader and the Writer. Even now my mask is on, and I bet yours is too.

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That which is most personal is also most universal. Simply put, whatever you feel deep inside, it has been felt, it is being felt, and it will be felt, by other people.
There are no new feelings. There are no new emotions. They have all been catalogued in our time on earth. So when you feel all alone in the world because you are afraid that others won't understand, try and try again to find that someone who relates to you. They are there, waiting. They are waiting for someone who shares their pains and their joys. Like you.