Everyday is a Masquerade!

The Safe Zone

"Everyday should be a Masquerade." He suggested jokingly.

But I was already thinking the same exact thing except in a more serious manner. How lovely it would be to hide behind my mask as I pretend to unroll my fantasies of being anything and anyone I wanted to be with nothing or no one to bother me.

I went to a masquerade last night hiding behind two walls. One of them being my mask and the other was my camera of course. The mask was my tool to hiding my face from anyone who would be able to read my expressions and see the fear of crowds that I hide so well. My camera was the key to popping in and out of different groups and getting inside people without having to reveal myself or talk to anyone. If I could, I would be a fly on the wall so that I can observe freely and not have to reply or give opinions.

"What's your story?" "What's your name?"

What do I say? My name is Yolanda, but I changed it to Lana. I'd prefer Yolanda, but you can call me what makes your day brighter because I attach no sentiments to what you decide to call me.

"Whoa. You're crazy."

Exactly.

There is a specific reason why I am deathly afraid of social crowds. It is not because I am not secure. It is definitely not because I am afraid of what people will think. It is simply because I feel like I am not sure if I want people to know who I am. I am special. No like really really special. I'm an acquired taste and dammit you can't understand me or get the gist of me with a simple, "Hello, my name is __. I like __. Yeah." I need substance. That's all. Don't get me wrong, I can function in big crowds and I'm not miserable if I can find a place to hide out or be with someone I know.

That's why everyday should be a masquerade. I would hide behind my mask and be whoever it is you need me to be at this social event while I peacefully watch you and listen to you without worrying about having to small talk.

The End

I met a friend that I admire. I took a picture of him and I love him. I wish to express to him very much how he has liberated a big beast of pressure buried inside of me. Thank you friend.

I want my mommy

An oldie but goody:

Written on May 9, 2008

I am a weak headed 24 year old bitch face. I cry when I know someone is getting hurt. I try my best to fight for others that cannot fend for themselves. I cannot figure out what hurts me, but I can see what makes you sad. I can fix you, but not myself. Can I be your mommy?

I am sick. I'm not cold sick. I don't have the sniffles, nor do I have a fever. I am sick of being alone and independent. I just want to be taken care of for one day. One day, I want to wake up with her fingers softly tracing my eyebrows from the center to the ends over and over. I want her to kiss my eyelids and tell me everything is going to be okay. I want her to bring my magic towel and put it on my head to suck away all the bad germs that have been trying to hurt me. All to be left the mommy kisses that would fight any bad feeling in my tummy and my head.

(Insert tears here.) (Give me about 2 minutes, then proceed.) That's me crying if you were trying to block that. Feel free to insert your own.

Get over it now. There's no room for sensitivity or weakness in this world. No one wants to see you break, it's just not allowed. I don't care for sympathy, I could use some empathy. Don't get caught relating to someone just like you. If this takes away from my character, than so be it. This is who I am. This is what I will never change.

Call me Achilles if you want. This world has a way to constantly stab at my heel. It usually misses because I am quick on my toes, but sometimes, just sometimes, I get hit and I fall.

So this is me on the ground. It took being sick to finally sit down and realize it. Ugh... I'm tired. I'm just so damn tired.

But like I said, get over it. Sitting and sulking will not do you any good.

So here I am. A fat head 24 year old girl face. I'm stronger than the bond between your grandma's gums and her chatterbox teeth. I don't care for fighting or arguing so if you don't have a point, I leave. I will climb mountains blindly without a harnass and bite cats if they bite me first. But here I am, sick in bed, like the little pussy I am, and I want my mommy.

For Lucas. Because I love you.