it's okay.

a white light flashes. and as the spots start to fade, so does the smile which graced my face, long enough only to capture the pretense. a look of control is now fixed in its place, do they know how i feel ? could they imagine how i hurt ? do they care to ponder the thoughts on which my emotions feed ? of course the answer is clear, as they only accept what lies outside, not willing to go deeper, to discover what i hide. even as i put on my show, the grandest one so late, perhaps this is the one that will inevitably seal my fate. trying to remember how i was, acting acceptable in their eyes, a master in charades, i can easily defy their less-than-pressing gazes. as they examine the superficial, looking only at the outside, only that which is initial. and it's killing me inside. all i wanna do is scream, just to see the shock at someone breaking the mold. just to watch their faces and all this unfold. to release all of my frustration at the fact that no one can care, i want someone to drag out the truth, but no one here would dare. and so i smile some more and laugh at all the moronic jokes, with all the crap they say, it seems that they should choke. so she gathers her things and leaves a piece of paper there upon which she wrote this: everyday you all asked me how i was, and everyday i answered with "i'm good" i expected at least one of you, just one of you, to really look at me and say to me "don't lie to me" but i don't think any of you ever will.