An illness

After being around people

He retreats to his normal habitat

He turns into what he believes is his true self

He no longer has to pretend to laugh or smile

Or make small chit chat with no intelligence but humor


Immediately he walks in his environment

His mind calms down and a weight is lifted

He feels somehow comfortable with his demons

He embraces them and whispers how he missed them

He slowly understands that it’s not a feeling but an illness

It’s part of him and without it he seems lost

Some days it feels better than others

And some days not even meds help

But he learns to manage it

He learns to keep it a secret

To often wear a smile

To not burden anyone

He has learnt to wear masks

For it’s a war he must fight

And casualties must be avoided


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