Empty eyes gazed back at me, overflown marks of mascara running down like rain marked the cheeks, chapped lips were dying to be wet. I put my quivering hands over the box and opened it, taking out the things to hide away the sadness which overshadowed my face. Taking the wipes, I cleaned away the mascara. I had put it before but angered myself, and used it wrong, letting it go south. Swiping the wipes over the face, I cleaned the sign of anger from the face. Placing them back on the table, I took the concealer and hide the dark circles which marked the stress of the last night. Little by little, I took every sign of sadness and anger and pain from my face until I could only see was the clean face, looking unbreakable like always. No crack and no pain would be seen by everyone else. Even me, just for a second. Then I would clearly see the cracks, one after the another, ready to break down and show the real t
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