As long as we're having a ball at the masquerade...
I like the extra strength and independence I've discovered, recently. I don't like that this is becoming extreme, that I'm heading back to the isolated Izzy that supports everyone else in an effort to forget her own thoughts. That covers every action with a counter-action so as to remain a mystery and a puzzle. That makes people fall in love with her so she can turn them away. That can't stand the idea of being close to anyone. ever. again. That holds up a facade, different though it may be, so that the underneath might melt away and disappear. We all do it though, don't we? Hold up a mask in front of our face, that says what we want the rest of the world to hear. The special people are the ones that can see through it.
I'm so careful and considered about what I say now. I'm creating a persona, gradually. All these new people can judge me instantly with the few facts available to them. They don't say anything about who I really am but these small fragments of a person, the person I project to the world, the person I pretend to be, are enough to solidify friendships and create a perfect persona that people can build upon within their own imaginations. Do you really know me at all? Does it even matter? Probably not.
I want to spread happy like butter, to everyone and anyone around me. I want to give people hope. I want to show them they still know how to imagine, help them rekindle their youthful idealism and make them believe that anything is possible again. I want to show people that walks in the rain and true love and pancakes are worth valuing, more than anything else in the world. I want to realise and remember every day why I surround myself with beautiful, crazy, intelligent fragile beings.
I'm not who I've been pretending to be, these past few months. The trouble is, I'm becoming this other person I'm not sure I like. And I don't know how to stop it.
I'm so careful and considered about what I say now. I'm creating a persona, gradually. All these new people can judge me instantly with the few facts available to them. They don't say anything about who I really am but these small fragments of a person, the person I project to the world, the person I pretend to be, are enough to solidify friendships and create a perfect persona that people can build upon within their own imaginations. Do you really know me at all? Does it even matter? Probably not.
I want to spread happy like butter, to everyone and anyone around me. I want to give people hope. I want to show them they still know how to imagine, help them rekindle their youthful idealism and make them believe that anything is possible again. I want to show people that walks in the rain and true love and pancakes are worth valuing, more than anything else in the world. I want to realise and remember every day why I surround myself with beautiful, crazy, intelligent fragile beings.
I'm not who I've been pretending to be, these past few months. The trouble is, I'm becoming this other person I'm not sure I like. And I don't know how to stop it.