So I was cleaning out my writing folder about three minutes ago and I came across this piece.
It has been sitting there literally forever. No joke.
All I had to do was three or four simple fixes to get it in postable condition. Why I didn't do that centuries ago I'll never know.
Disclaimer: Dude, do I look like I'm cool enough to actually be Hussie? No, I didn't think so.
My whole life, I have hidden. I hid my madness from my friends with Sopor. I hid my addiction from the world through Pesterchum. I hid my feelings behind idiocy. I hid my face behind make-up. I hid my body behind a computer and never stepped outside. I hid my hurt feelings over my never-present Lusus behind drug-induced happiness. I hid so much, I didn't even know what the real me was anymore.
So I gave up the Sopor.
I guess I should have stayed hidden. My madness let loose suppressed anger, and then they started dying. I didn't want to believe it was me, but I would look down at my hands, stained rainbow by their blood, and I knew. I knew, and it just fueled me onwards.
I didn't know why I killed, or even how many were actually by my hands. I know now I was dodging a question. The reason I hid was a question not only others asked me but one that I asked myself: why the make-up? After all, I am a guy.
I would ask myself this as I applied layer after layer until no skin showed. I didn't look beautiful; I looked like a clown.
Maybe that is why the madness set in, born out of a cosmetics bag. Born from that question branded in my mind; always bouncing around in my sub-conscience.
I would always reply with a"looks bitchtits wicked man", but in all honestly, I didn't have an answer. I searched and searched, looking in places not even on my home planet.
I don't think I ever found the answer, and maybe that was because I didn't actually need one; I already knew.
The real reason I wear the make-up is that I really just need something to hide behind.