Perhaps I'm destined for more in my life than to simply gush and blush when a man acts sweet to me, mope and vent whilst he acts indifferent and weep and mourn as he walks over me

Some nights I peel off my face and hang up my despair. I paint on a new face maybe even draw a big smile, then I take some pictures and share some superficial giggles. When the fakeness fades, I come back home- I throw on my raw face, wear my comfy despair, and sit and sob for hours