Day 5: Banafsaj 100 days of writing


“Disclaimer: I found this picture on tumblr today and thought how real and relatable this actually is.”

He doesn’t wake up to soft music alarm anymore.. He wakes up to fire drill sounds that scare him out of his sleep.
She doesn’t open her eyes first. She stretches her arms and shakes her shoulder slightly to shed off the beauty of her dream to the horror of reality.
He inhales deep till his lungs inflate to fiery red and exhale hard the fumes of the dream.
She puts pink on her cheekbones to hide the pale of her skin. Perhaps a flashing lipstick, maybe red, definitely not nude color today. She needs more color like she needs air.
He puts on his whitest of clothes. Hides his darkness within. His watch, his pen. The perfect angel from every angel with a halo on his head. He smells of success musked with heavenly fruit.
We all stop for a second in front of our mirrors to check the new reflection. We assess the perfection of the masks we groom our selves with every morning.

Is this how we are supposed to live. Create a mask, survive, revive, & repeat.


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