- Gunduy by Kat Bell
Behind the mask
Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me.
Dammit... They've seen me.
Why did they have to look my way?
They're coming over. Why? We won't be friends anyway.
I've done this dance so many times.
It's fruitless, pointless, a waste of time.
Oh well. Now I have to mask again. Wooee.
Excuse me while I roll my eyes sarcastically.
How should I be.
What mask do I have today? I can't be me.
I don't know. Why can't I be me? I just want to be me.
That's right, I'm weird, awkward, strange, different.
Not like them.
They know what to say, they talk with ease.
Back and forward, back and forward, back and forward. It's a breeze.
Even with the mask I can't work it out.
The natural progession, smooth transitions, the pauses, the quips.
The small talk rolling over their lips.
There's a small crack in the conversation.
Do I jump in on this occassion?
Nope. My words don't break through.
Another takes the cue /queue.
In my mind half finished sentences lingering lonely on my tongue.
My mask, you have failed me. This shit ain't fun.
I'm exhausted by all the chatter.
Even though I've said nothing, it doesn't matter.
My brain working, processing, processing, processing, a hundred miles an hour.
Ticking. Tocking. Mental time bomb.
Masking my way through a social haze, a rolling sitcom.
Drop. Wiery. Exhausted.
Pull mask off. An evening rorted.
Mental overload, rushing, twisting, twitching.
Screaming, clenching fists, wrists flicking.
Noise in my head doesn't slow down.
My mask you have failed me another time round.
I was okay pressed against the wall.
A quiet observer, no need to trawl.
Why did they have to come my way?
I didn't have the right mask today.