76 - The Secondary Mask

The lows were painful, 

but at least they were familiar.

I knew their shape, 

their rhythm, 

the way they settled over me like a heavy blanket.

There was no anxiety in the lows

only the dull comfort of knowing exactly what was coming.

I thought things would get easier once my brother began to get better.

But the truth was harsher.

The higher we climbed, 

the sharper the fear became.

The fear of falling.

The fear of undoing everything.

The fear of being the one who breaks him again.

I had no place left to take off my mask.

At home, 

I couldn’t let myself sink when I felt the weight.

I had to wear a new mask  

Not the smiling one,

but the one that said I had everything under control.

That everything was going to be fine.

That I knew how to look after him.

I couldn’t remove that second mask.

I couldn’t show the stress, 

the trembling uncertainty,

the truth that I didn’t know what I was doing.

The fear of triggering his darkness again

forced me to hold myself together 

in ways that didn’t feel human.

There was no place left to be myself.

A constant rotation of masks 

one for work, 

one for home,

none for me.

The only peace I found was during the commute.

Twenty minutes of quiet,

a small pocket of time 

where no one needed anything from me.

But even then, 

I could feel myself slipping.

The persona I wore for survival became the only version of me that existed.

I lost the sense of who I had been before all this,

and even now, 

I struggle to reclaim whatever that was.

A masked life  

Not just at work, 

but everywhere.

That became the new me.

And the scariest part is the thought of someone seeing beneath it,

because unlike before,

I no longer know what’s underneath.

And I’m afraid to find out.