Masquerade

Wearing a perfect masque is only half of the battle. Keeping it maintained and looking proper without allowing it to crack and the true pain to show through is the more challenging task at hand. I was once able to do so. I held my head high, smiled, and endured my pain in silence. The only tears I shed were a few in the privacy of my living room at night when everyone else had gone to sleep. I raised my children alone. I have now been encourage to remove my masque. And have. I have to admit, at times...it's freeing. I feel lighter knowing I don't have to carry burdens alone. Seeing the events of the past few weeks, I think now it's time to Spackle that bastard back on my face. I don't want "sounding board friends" I've been one for many people. The friend that has to sit there and listen to someone's entire week, smile and nod and not get a word in edge wise. The one who never gets asked "how are you doing" the friend who is never on someone's priority list.....I have BEEN that friend. I don't want one of those. I would rather not talk at all then to vent to someone who sits, nods and walks away. Seizures be damned, I need to find my own way to cope with things other then speaking about it. I would call them "annoyances" in my life but I'm afraid that it's more then that.....there are certain things (and people) who don't seem to understand that the amount of frustration and pain they are purposely causing are quite literally going to be the death of me...and don't seem to care. Ally put it best... I'm playing Russian roulette and my particular "stresses" are the bullets. The more bullets I have in the gun, the less of a chance I have of walking away. This is NOT exactly a metaphor, sadly. SUDEP - Death in Epilepsy The more seizures I have, the higher the risk of SUDEP. So for all intense purposes, I have a gun pointed at my head and the mother fucker is loaded......my kids dads...(YES BOTH OF YOU GUYS)...not being able to work, trying to take care of my kids, getting frustrated because I cant remember things, etc etc etc......are all bullets in the gun for me......how many can I possibly load in the damn thing without brain matter being splattered on the wall? (Or at least what's left of my brain matter...) Or even worse...(yes this is worse:) becoming mentally incapable of taking care of myself and my kids, or becoming a vegetable....I DON'T EVEN LIKE BROCCOLI!!

So for the record this may be the last time my actually "feelings" are openly and honestly expressed and in simple form; here they are:
Fear
Anger
Resentment
Disappointment
Depression
Inadequacy
Good old-fashioned Fucked-up