The Man and the Mask
September 24, 1990
I admit that I am the man with the mask. I wear it every day, until the lights go out. Then I feel safe in taking off my mask and being myself, with myself.
I bury my head in my pillow and brace myself for the flashbacks of my memories. My tears are silent, but the pain burns deep in my heart, placing the memories deep and deeper into my soul.
In the daytime when I use the phone or receive a letter from a loved one, it reflects the pain I feel. I sit down to write, since I can’t share my feelings with anyone or allow them to know how I am actually feeling sad and hurt and lonely.
It doesn’t matter because I am always prepared with my mask of happiness or my mask of portraying that I’m all right. It is very easy to hide behind my mask, but the pain it costs to wear it, is overwhelming.
I am the man-and-my emotions are the mask.
I wrote this during my time in prison….
Sam R. Ford BSW