Never Ending Masquerade Ball

I was struggling with my inner turmoil. It was churning inside me like the ocean on a stormy day. I held my chest. It hurt more every minute I had to wear this mask to cover up my pain from the people who surrounded me. Until I was finally alone and I could rip off the mask and let my face breathe.

I sat in my room, trying to keep myself alive. I felt my eyes wanted to swell up and cry. But I willed myself to hold back the tears, even if I was in the solitude of my room. I tried to hold myself together as much as I could. I was afraid of letting go. I felt that if I lost that last grip I had on my life, I would fall apart.

I glanced out my door and, to my surprise, I saw a young girl sitting across the hall. She was staring at me; studying me, I guessed. I wondered to myself who could this strange girl be? Inside my own house. I guessed my mother had asked over the family from across the street. I'd never seen them before, so why couldn't it be them? I didn't smile or wave, I just turned away. About a minute later, I had given in to the urge of glancing, and I took another peek to the mysterious girl who was still staring at me. My eyebrows creased in confusion and the girl seemed to feel the same.

When I took another glance, she seemed to have her eyes glued on me. I brushed my hair with my fingers and she did the same. Was she mocking me? I was beginning to feel upset.

Another minute later, fury took me over and I stood up. She stood up as well and anger was engraved into her eyes. Why was she angry? Was I the one staring at her? I think not. She was in my house, she should respect that, shouldn't she? I walked down the hall, my hands balled up into fists to contain my anger. She did the same, and I was convinced that she was mocking me. I walked until we were face to face.

"Why are you staring at me?" I asked. To my shock, she said exactly the same thing at the same time. This was too weird. I stretched out my hand and she did the same. I was eternally confused. Our fingers touched, but instead of feeling the warmth of another human being's fingertips, I felt it ice cold. I gasped when sudden realization settled in. I staggered back and held my chest in surprise. That wasn't the new neighbors from across the street. That wasn't some stranger who had wandered in by mistake. It was… me; my reflection in the mirror.

But how could that be me if I didn't recognize myself? I thought I'd taken off my mask. I thought my face could breathe. But that was me, a stranger standing in the mirror. She didn't look like me. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red, her lips were chapped, her skin pale. How could that possibly be me? My constant pain had sown the mask to my face. And now, looking into the mirror at the stranger standing in front of me, all I could think was… Who am I? Who have I become?

The whole action in this story didn't exactly happen. I would usually write something like this in poetry form, but I guess I couldn't get myself to write poetry and whatnot. This is how I feel most of the time. That I attend a masquerade ball and I can't take my mask off. I hope you enjoy this extremely short story. Thank you for reading and another thanks for those who review. Oh, and sorry if you were expecting rhyming words or stanzas or verses or whatever. A million apologies for that.