A mask

I feel like everyone has these thoughts from time to time.

About not being enough.

About being too much.

Not smart enough

Not chill enough

Not happy enough

Not nice enough

Not funny enough

Too loud

Too unobservant

Too happy

Too much laughing

Too much talking

What about breathing?

Too much?

Too little?

When was the last time

I did that even?

Hide away

under a mask

it's easier like that

to fake it

till you make it

but what is left

after that

Tightly controlled

Perfect craft

Not splitter nor cracks

Never at fault

Never seen at all

Is there anything left?

Will they still like me?

The me that is under this farse?

When I stop playing chess

controlling every step

carefully crafting what they see

what if that breaks?

I am not perfect

Not proper

Nor prim

Not funny for everyone

With sharp edges and shards

That might scare some

Sometimes mean

Sometimes too much

Sometimes smart

Sometimes not

Sometimes chaotic

Sometimes controlled

But is that so bad?

To not be everything?

To not be perfect

all of the time?

Every second

Every minute

Every hour

Of every day

for the entirety of time?

When will it stop?

when I have reached aeons?

When I have no more time?

Can't I be me?

Would anyone want to see?

The me that is

Too much and too little

And something in the middle

How would that feel?

To be imperfect

But also real