For every soul that sits in a pew on Sunday and hides behind their mask… my heart beaks again. I have sat there, too… and carried my very own bag of masks. It was a large bag and a heavy bag… A mask for every occasion. There was the one to convince the world that I was fine… the one that extended the implication that my life in fact was not broken in anyway. Interchangeable and with perfect façade, I hid behind those masks much too long.
For years I offered so many lies… to my family, to myself. A double life developed and because of those faithful masks I was able to pull it off. For a while anyway. It wasn’t so much that I thrived on the deception I had created and become, but rather that I was too afraid to be real and honest. It was easier to avoid the truth than to…
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