A Broken Mask

Everyday is like putting on a mask and pretending everything is okay. I wake up, take a deep breath and smile. I brush my hair - and maybe sometimes my teeth. I make some breakfast, just enough so my parents don't worry. I bike to school and walk the corridor with my eyes to the ground so nobody can see the sadness within. Teachers ask me how I am, friends are telling funny stories and I laugh it off, maybe with a joke or two. Everything just to hide the cracks and broken pieces under the mask. Because if people knew how bad I'm hurting, how much my heart weighs... Then nothing will happen. Yeah they will care and yeah they will ask about it, check in with me. But what does it change? It will only make it worse, when I have to choose between lying or feeling guilt over my relapse last night. So I already made up my mind, put on the mask and continued my day.