Love and Lies and Masks and God

Gosh, where to start.

I like to think of myself as a good person. I mean, I go to church, I try to be kind to everyone, I have lot's of really great friends... I'm doing good. People see me as a good person.

But it's fake. It all is.

I lie awake at night, and the only thing I can think about is how maybe I'm not a good person after all. My empathy and sympathy? What if it's just a subconscious manipulation of others? Am I a sociopath? Come to think about it, I don't care about anyone. When I'm alone, at least.

Maybe I've been wearing the Mask so long I've become it. I've faked being a gentleman, and so I became one. I hope to God that's true. I don't want to be a scoundrel. I don't want my friends to leave me. I don't want to be just another stereotypical, attitude-driven, lying, cussing, body-obsessed boy. I am more than a bloody boy. Or, at least, the mask is.

Girls have been attracted to me, I know that. But were they attracted to me? Or the mask? There was this one girl. I wore the mask for her. I danced the tune, I walked the walk, I talked the talk, because honestly, she was just too good for me, and there was no other way I would've convinced her I actually cared about her. She was beautiful. She was kind. She was... Amazing.

Except that the Mask left me. Be it God or luck or fate, I lost the Mask and all of it's perfect attributes. The girl and I fought and argued, because our personalities were no longer compatible. I was a fraud. I was a liar, and there was no way this amazing girl would want to spend time with someone who she found she no longer enjoyed the company of. When the Mask had made me interesting and kind and almost mysterious, I became abrasive, awkward, and really just not great. So she did what was best; she said a relationship wasn't best, and we parted ways.

The Mask never came back. God showed me that I would have to become the Mask I had once worn, and leave this life of lies and deceit and lust and evil. I had to become the gentleman, or I knew without doubt that holy fire or heavenly holiness would strike me down immediately. So, out of fear or desire or a strange combination of the two, I did.

As I look back, I realize that the girl will always have a place in my heart. If we ever meet again, I think I could show that this is my true self and that I've grown up. I think that maybe, just maybe, she might feel something for me, too. Love, or whatever it was then, never leaves the heart. It merely weighs it down until someone else can help you hold it up.