Everything that I am

Writing, as much as I love it, I find it easier to talk as talking doesn't require structure. You can start at random and rewind what you just said. Recently I find myself unable to express my feelings. I am afraid. Afraid that someone will talk about what I have just said. Afraid that it will be taken out of context, that I'll be misunderstood, like always. I am kinda tired to live like this, always on my toes. I am no ballerina. Why should I torture myself? But then, plans have been made. I am to stick to it in a few more months. So to be anonymous yet completely honest, I'll jot my spoken words to strings of stories so I'll be of ease.

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Masks

The alarm goes off; softly. Just the way she liked it. She snooze it, like always. Darkness still blankets outside as the sound of adzan begins to call its devoted people of faith. Rubbing her tired eyes, she adjusted to the light being switched by her other half as he gets ready to school. His work is earlier than her; giving her more time to laze around on bed. Silence, as the water runs in the bathroom. 

She muzzle her thoughts about the commotion in the Whatsapp. It tires her. This year too, she is being taken advantage on. Last year she lug the burdens alone, this year, she is asked to pitched in the most despite being released of the duty. 

She complaints a lot but she loves the job. She is passionate about it. Yes, she still have a lot to learn and she is thirsty of that skills and knowledge; to be better yet she is going nowhere. In a vicious circle where everyone is wearing masks of lies; she is drowning. Suffocated. Screaming inside, she is dying. But the masks are scary. People with masks care naught but themselves. So tiptoeing is a must. 

Minutes later, she dragged her body from her bed, breaking away from her reverie. Like always, she put her own mask in front of the mirror; smiling as if nothing happens.