concealer

“You looked so sad! Why are you so depressed?”

Goodness gracious. No matter how hard I cover up my unhappy state with molar-to-molar smiles and gaily attitude, these articles of unwanted tension stemming from something that was ought to be forgotten just naturally exuded from my being. Last Saturday—when I, Marianne, and Donna left the sweet confines of Sans Rival—I heard that statement above being called out from afar. I thought the call was for someone else but upon knowing from whom the message was my happy mask simply got off my face like a limp banana-peel. He was a teacher; someone who I thought only had the command of reading great literature but also of reading depressed auras. (Nah, the latter part is just a joke.) As for the query, I didn’t know what to answer so I just flashed my metal-wrought pearly whites for added arrogance and disbelief. I was not sure if it worked, though. Anyways, I realized I'm bad at pretending nowadays.

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