There's a reason people think I'm mean
why I seem so hateful and different
I guess I used to be so nice to everyone
because I needed to hide behind a mask
a mask that made me seem happy
made me seem kind

Of course i'm still kind,
I know what it feels like to feel
left out
disliked
alone.
So I'm nice to the people I know need it
the people like me,
who need someone to tell them it's okay,
like a flower needs the sun

we all want that warmth,
that warmth that is the love of those around us

I know that my parents think I'm different
I'm not the same little girl they once knew
I'm not cheerful
I'm not optomistic
Something broke inside me
like a bone when you hit the ground

For some, the bone might heal correctly
And come back stronger,
making them a better person
those are the people we want to know about.
the damaged people who became normal

But what about the others?
The bones that didn't grow back?
The bones that became twisted
and cracked again
the ones weaker than before.
no one wants to hear about those people
because no one wants to be tied down
or responsible,
for that sob story in their doorway

I don't know where I fall yet.
I'm still in the process of healing
and I have been for nine years.
every time I get close, something bends the bone a little
and sends me down a hole of pain

So no.
I'm not that happy little girl.
I'm not innocent anymore.
and that mask i kept on so tight,
the mask I wore to make you feel better,
to make you feel happy.
because i wanted you to be happy
It made me feel good for just a second,
when you would smile and forget about what made you sad.

That was my job
to make you happy.
I needed your smile,
never thinking of when I should smile too.
the only smile I knew was the one I painted on the mask
Maybe somewhere along the line, I asked myself;

When will I be happy?
and maybe it was selfish,
maybe it was inconvenient
but I ask myself that question every day
because this mask is getting a little too tight
and I need something long lasting,
because your short smiles aren't enough anymore.
once it's gone I get the shakes,
like an addict.
I need something to remind me to be happy.
there's an app for everything these days,
I wish there was an app for happiness.

You're the only one who makes me happy.
Lets me take the mask off now and again,
but Then I have to put it back on,
and wear it home
and I sleep in it,
eat in it,
shower in it,
This mask is getting tighter,
and I hope you won't be mad
when it just breaks.