Dollhouses the "perfect" life

"The perfect life"
Every week I think to myself that I should try and write something more upbeat, but maybe next time. Tonight a thought ran through my mind it has been in my mind for a while but the thought became crystal clear tonight: we are all living in a dollhouse.

You can interpret this as a dream, a story, or you can relate it is all up to you.

Tonight or rather midnight I sat in tears hearing the church bells chime in the far background. Thinking, pondering about life and what it still entails for me. Secretly I wish that someone or something will just break in and kill me so that I don’t have to feel the pain anymore. I try, I scream to myself that I MAY NOT, I may not show emotion, I must remain neutral; the only time I allow myself to feel emotion is when I am alone. This becomes hard when the people causing you to scream at yourself, tells each other that I am the one I am the little bitch that spreads lies and that I tell tall tales and that I am causing the feuds the quarrels. Then you stay silent and not say a thing. The other siblings will moan and groan in my ear making me listen. I hear it all: the bad mouthing coming from all of you, I hear it all to perfect. I am seen as the good and obedient child by the head of the house the patriarch, I feel how the others look at me, that look of hatred of anger. They will always just say how much they love you, even though you can see how they despise of you. I am seen as the serpent, the snake in the grass. I am the one whispering thoughts into their ears making them act out and start a feud. But what if I don’t breathe a word, what if I don’t even breathe a thought? Am I still the serpent?

Then the twist comes in when someone who is not part of the household walks in…
Then my dearest darling then nothing is wrong then we live in a dollhouse, the tears are wiped away, the looks are masked by fake smiles, and fake laughs. I have been there I know all the lies, to mask the red eyes to mask the pain to make sure that no one sees what is going on. Once the people turn their backs the hatred, the emotional beatings they continue… everyone thinks we are perfect… but are we really? We put up our doll faces and we make a dollhouse where nothing is ever wrong where no one will know of the past or the present. Will they ever look over their thin walls will they ever listen?

Tonight at midnight I sit in tears I wish I silently pray for a way out. I just want it to end I don’t care how I just want this feuds (just a nice way of saying fights and emotional beatings) to end.

I read that every permanent scar I draw is a fight I have lost with myself, that I will never find someone who will love me. If it was not for those scars I would not be here… I would’ve ended it a long time ago, sparing me this pain. Every scar is a victory against my death.

In the end I feel every single human being are putting up doll faces and the every one of us are living in a dollhouse. We all would like the perfect life and we are all pretending that some aspects in the life are perfect or at least as perfect as it can become.