Cracks: a short story
I hate being alone I wish i found it nice like so many others do. My thougts become louder as does the silence. I hate to admit it but I may be a social creature.
Alone while depressed is a death sentence...the bad thoughts and ideas of suicide have no one to drown them. No one but a sad girl soaking up the viale words and ideas like a dried out sponge. At least sponges can reform after shattering, my kind? No so much, I am so shattered that I worry my mask shows my cracks, which is why each day I doan a new one. One is porcelain with ruby lips and dark mysterious eyes. Another is crystal and decorated is multicolored gems. Its my favorite and the one i wear today.
You see a cracked body can be hidden under clothes but a face needs a mask. Least they find out about your near fractured state and take you away...never to be seen again....
This is why i wear a mask, to hide the cracks on my face to hide the fact I am not a perfect creature to hide the fact...we are all doomed to fracture....