(Credit: Elizabeth J. Aragon, sweetclipart.com)

Can we change masks now?

I am getting tired of crying, and I think the wrinkles in the brow are making furrows in my brain.

You promised me that they were only masks and that they would not change who we really are. But during the days which turned to weeks which turned to months, my face seems to have been ever better moulded to fit this grotesque façade, and I worry that time will turn these foreign features to stone.

So give me your smile.

Surely, it is my turn to be the happy one by now.