There is a boy.
He seems to never sad or upset.
He seems to never has a frown upon his face.
He is so likable.
He is what you would call happy.
But what you don't know is that when he is alone, he isn't so happy as it seems.
He can barely look at himself in the mirror.
He says that he isn't skinny.
He cries himself to sleep sometimes.
He screams at the top of his lungs, asking why he isn't like all of the other people.
He skips meals.
He claims that he can't find anything he loves about himself.
He never tells anyone.
Because he is "happy" remember?
If he took of his mask, he would be taking all sorts of pills.
He would have to go to therapy and talk to people who don't care about his feelings, and add just there for the money.
Because he wonders to himself if there is a way that he can stop all of this pain.
But the only solution he could find is to end his life.
He hasn't yet.
But you never know when.
Someone you care about might disappear one day.
They might be happy on the outside, but might be tearing apart on the inside.
No one knows about his true feelings.
But what you don't know is that the boy
Is me
