It’s exhausting carrying around a mask all day. Drinking the Kool-Aid of society just to fit in. Losing your voice in the wind of the majority. But the one time that wind stops, and your voice is heard, you are outcasted. A stepping stone in a dystopian world. Being told to stop living because of your appearance. You find a group you can be yourself with, then you are burned by the flames of deception. Burned by the one thing you trusted them with. The one thing it took you years to share. Now made into a mockery. Being stupid enough to let this happen twice. Maybe being alone is best. You have only yourself to worry about. Maybe becoming mute would be to your benefit. Not having to worry about being made fun of for what you say. Maybe being cynical is a good thing.
But my hope for the future is stronger than my hatred for the past. I’ll move to a different city to start over. I’ll move to a place where no one knows my name. A place where people can get to know my name for all of the right reasons. A place where I can let the mask of society break. A place where “individual” means good and “same” means bad. A place where being alone is the last resort, instead of the first. A place where people actually want to hear what I say, instead of ignoring every last word. A place where hypocrisy is rare. A place where I don’t have to have anxiety constantly poking me to make sure I know it’s there. A place where I can be happy. And a place where I can be myself.