She watches as they dance.
Colors swirl and their faces are masked. They hold onto their masks, as if they need them to survive.
She could not find a mask, or a ball-gown.
She can see them.
They are laughing, though beneath they are crying.
They are bleeding under the layers of their dresses.
But they keep dancing…how she will never know.
It all too much for her, the facades, the hurt hidden under the frivolous laughter and fake joy.
She falls onto the floor, hugging her knees, and screams. But they keep dancing as if she doesn’t exist. She cannot be heard, they choose to ignore her cries.
An excerpt from my journal, June 2015.