Masquerade

Everyone hides behind a mask of accomplishments. They use this starry-eyed version of themselves like a bandaid to cover up the gloom—to make sure it never shows through. They tuck their failures deep inside, right next to their insecurities, hoping that it will stop the heartache if pushed deep enough into the center, packed so tightly together that it looses all hope of escaping. This mask is worn so often that sometimes even the wearer forgets the masquerade he takes part in. With a silver tongue and a heart full of helium, nobody ever notices the seams, and the only time their real face is shown to the world is when it is paired with a eulogy.