A world full of lost, confused, conflicted, and fearful thoughts. These thoughts helped create a mess of a life for her. Everyday was a struggle, a struggle just to “be”. The constant entrapment of her rehearsed ways constructed relentless secrecy. Hiding the demons that lurked among the mind of this trouble being, was always a fight. A fight against herself.

The delusional world she created around her, the façade became easy to become apart of. What a sham of a smile she gave to passing strangers. That mask that hid all of her insecurities was as thick as granite. She couldn’t be broken for she already chipped her emotions away. The numbness that engulfed her shell of a body raised the awareness that she was merely just there. At times she thought she felt joy. Never could really tell if the feeling was apart of her daily performance. Act 7 Scene 3? Maybe, or maybe she did "feel" at times.

There were many people around her. Some she depended on to keep her ground stable. Like a scale, if one left her side the existence she had worked so hard to keep manageable became unsteady, unknowing. Although she had many who unconditionally cared for her, she had become so callused; I don’t think their love ever reached her. To her, she was the only broken one. To her everyone had it so easy. There were no demons taking over her “beauty pageant queen” of a sister’s mind. Not wanting to take that form, that cookie cutter mold of a being. It wasn’t her. So I guess she was taking a risk, to conform and feel safe or be, her.

Few were able to bring her walls down; few were able to make her feel secure enough to put that mask away. However, when she was comfortable enough to show her true self, it was a beauty.

To be cont....