I am a face behind a face behind a face. You can peel back the layers but
how can you know which is me?
The faces, the walls. Isn’t it worse to be hated and loved for being yourself?
To know that the pain you inflict, the mistakes you make and the people
you wrong, all of it is on you, and you have done it all.
Or is it worse to sit in your life, your cage, and be lived only not to
recognize yourself in the mirror. To meld so completely to custom and
courtesy that the person you once were lives only in your memory, the face
of a perfume you once were, of someone you will never be again.
Categories:
Faces
March 17, 2026
More to Discover