Book Dragon: "This one will probably be easy to figure out…wrote it a while back…that's all I've got to say…"
A Question of Safety
What do you think of me?
Does that question even matter? It wouldn't look like I'm going to care anyway. I'll keep my sinister mask, thank you very much. It's safer that way, you know. It's not like you know I exist, anyway, so how can you think of me at all?
And yet, I see you under your own mask. I know, deep down, you know of me. Yet, for some reason that eludes me, you choose not to remember. You choose to bat your brown eyes at your friends, and act like you don't have a clue what's going on. Play a case of amnesia.
And what does it get you? It lets you keep this little fantasy world you prop up around you. You can just will all that pain away and live in that fake reality of yours where your safe, like a foolish Princess locked away in her tower. Even with the support and concern of your friends you don't let them in. They stay, outside, trying to look in while you stare out at them through your mirrory glass.
You puzzle me. Deeply. But obviously, I make it look like I don't care. You're just a tool after all. Something to get my work done and completed with. Still…it would be interesting. If you let me talk to you instead of pretending I don't exist. We could talk, for hours I'd bet. But perhaps you're afraid I'd break you. Shatter your mind into a thousand little bits, like I do to many others. Is that it?
Or do you just prefer your little dream world? Walking and feeling carefree. Not having the fear that something darker and more dangerous lurks inside of you, like must kids your age. To be normal. To hide behind that happy mask as you do now.
Tell me, my dear vessel, is that safer, too?
Book Dragon: "As usual, I'd appreciate reviews."