As the days go on once again, it seems time itself is the medicine for all odds of such. Time itself is also a revealer, like an idiocratic story book letting you feel what is so different each time and each day. Things in themselves are non-living, non-consequential, however it is the memories which surround them that bring us closer to feel and wish we haven’t felt. Torn with the conflict, I feel that maybe in some way or another, as time reveals its story to me, I grow further away from who I know I should be. Sometimes we wear our hearts on our faces, oblivious that the world looks on, takes another look and walks on. There would be no need for the continuation of such, as even when time passes the bitterness of all; we wear masks to hide who we are true inside.

The masks which comes in so many shapes and sizes, sometimes easy to wear, even enjoyable because the world likes them so much, but sometimes even too heavy for our heads to carry that when it falls one day, it shocks the world to know and they do not understand, incomprehensible to them that we look on dumbfounded that now we have to be ourselves with no more masks to hide under.

How many people wear masks and how many masks do we have? It would be fictive to believe that nobody wears none. Because the world in itself changes people, it exposes us to so many and dependent on how much we wish to indulge in this world, it brings about the number of masks that we have.

At the end of the day, what leaves us with how we feel? We look on at the world, understanding that nothing lasts forever. The past feelings, felt and thawed. As Umberto Eco expounds,

You don't fall in love because you fall in love; you fall in love because of the need, desperate, to fall in love.

We are all like having drank a philter, and from then, we take two routes of either doing too much or doing too little. Maybe I should wear that mask of old, the one which tears peoples masks down, the one that I did not like to wear but brought about the fruits of battle won? Would that be too much? Would that plunge me further into what I tried to run from before? Maybe I never ran away from being something that I know I shouldn’t have, but just never had the opportunity to. For when that mask is worn, no philters work. But only the wish for conquest and earthly conquests in which brings about nothing actually. For this normal self of mine to say it’s helped me achieve nothing, but for my masks self to revel and say it has only made my mask more impervious to the feelings of this world.

When will it all end? When can we finally sit down, drink that coffee, tea or wine and say it is over? I don’t want to have conflicting ideas, maybe no one thinks as much as me. I wear my other masks the self of no-brainer which makes the world happy. I’ve slipped off my mask before and I feel it achieves nothing. That I should act the way in which it makes everyone happy. It feels lonely sometimes, not having anyone know how you feel or truly who you are. But all this bitterness crap also is the same reason which chases people away. Which is why it is only shown here, unknown by any, maybe some part of me wants someone to read it, and maybe some part of me doesn’t. All I know is, I pour my heart out. And live on with my different masks where if I were to drink Philters again, me in my mask would completely play the nonchalantly of the person which drugged me.