Charade

The night was blurry. The edges blended in with each other. I was alone… but I really wasn’t. My face wasn’t mine, but I felt stronger in it. Protected, somehow. Sophisticated, independent? Maybe. But how foolish. Yet somehow, I didn’t want to give it up.
The colors were just big, bright dots. Nobody noticed that I didn’t really see. I preferred it that way. The reality didn’t seem as harsh when everything was out of focus. I had packed them in my bag, of course, just in case. But I didn’t put it on because I didn’t really want to see. It was bearable, even pleasant this way. You couldn’t see anyone like this, so you didn’t have to worry whether they were looking at you.
It was a charade. But I’ve never felt so safe until I was the one behind the mask.

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