The darkness pressed in on me, although the room was well lit. The shadows closed in, tearing up my soul and suffocating me. I struggle for breath. I never knew how life could smother you like this... grinding you into nothing, suffocating you, beating the light from your eyes, until all you see... Is can't kill you, but it can torture.

I attempt in vain to rip the masks from my skin. The masks, however, have become part of me, fused into my skin, and disfiguring me. I forget, over time, where the masks end and where I... begin. More masks are added, and eventually, completely stifle the person I once was.

The monster I have become is unfamiliar, and alien. Yet, I can not break free from its firm grasp. I attempt to free myself through tears, but they only blister my skin.

Nothing is real anymore, and nothing is sacred.

I can't remember who I was, what feelings are true, which were, and what really happened. Memories are stolen from me, and altered.

Through little lies, I become disfigured, mutated, and deformed. I am no longer able to identify my own emotions. Anger, frustration and grief blend and mix inside my stomach, causing nausea.

Happiness? Is there such a thing? Or is it simply another part of the masquerade of my world? I believe I do feel this, but it wears off. Fun with friends must end, and the second it's over, I feel this pain.

The jarring pain, along with the question, Who am I? The pain rips through my chest, wounding me. Is this pain real? or is it imagined? I have no idea.

I fold into myself and think of my friend, who feels the only real thing. I know who he is. He is my brother. This thought holds me to earth, to my life. And he keeps me from cutting my own ties to this earth.