Behind The White Mask

Behind The White Mask

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Mar 26, 2013
Beyond Mountains And Across Wide Rivers Was The Small Town Of Nascosto Hidden From The Rest Of The World. Better Off Forgotten , The World Closed This Town Off When They Didn't Accept Their Strange Costumes To Wearing White Mask.This Is Where I Live , Closed Off. In My Town You Cant Be Too Skinny , Too Fat, Too Pale or Too Dark, Too Short Or Too Tall . If You Were , You Were Taken Out Of Town And Never Heard From Ever Again. No One Really Knows Where They Go , Some Say That They Kill You And Throw You In The River So You Can Float In To The Unknown. Others Say There Is A Town Where All The Unwanted Are In.Unwanted , Outcast This Is What We Call Them Because They Have No Place In Our Town, Their Is No Space For Them In Here But Why.? Why Is It So Bad To Be Different. I Wonder What Is Beyond The Forest , You Never Get Heard From Again If You Take Off Your Mask Or Leave Town. You See We Wear These Mask Not By Force But Because We Want Too , There Is The Danger That If You Take It Off You Get Killed But Besides That No One Really Has A Problem With Them. There Are Times Where I Wonder What Is Under Them But I Know Removing The Mask Will Only Trigger The Alarm To My Death. Of Course I'm Starting To Worry About Things Because I'm 17 And This Is The Stage Where I Want To Run Free And See What Is Behind My Mask. I Want To See My Real Face And Finally Know What I Look Like. Finally Go Out Of Town To Be Free. I've Been Seeing These Small Orbs In The Woods And There Are Times Where I Just Stare Out My Window And See Myself Walking Into The Woods.Alas I Know I Can't .Soon , Soon I Will Run , Just Run And Never Stop. For Now I Have To Continue My Life Behind My White Mask.
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.

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