"The Mask and the Cure"
The man wore a smile, but it wasn’t real.
It sat on his face like a bad hat.
Too big. Crooked. Ugly if you looked too long.
Inside, he wasn’t smiling.
He was tired.
Of pretending. Of watching others laugh while he boiled in his own silence. He didn’t know why he liked seeing people suffer. Maybe because misery wants company. Maybe because it made his own pain feel less alone.
But he knew it was wrong.
There was no medal in being miserable. No pride in being cruel.
It was just a slow death — one you drag out over decades.
You can’t shoot that kind of pain. Can’t drink it down. Can’t box it out.
You have to turn inward.
You have to care.
Start with yourself. Not with love — that’s too big a word.
Start with care. Like cleaning a wound. Like brushing your teeth in the dark when no one is watching. Start small. And be honest.
When the darkness comes — and it will — stop.
Say it out loud if you have to.
“No. I’m better than this.”
And when you see someone suffering, and you feel that twist of joy inside — catch it.
Scold yourself.
Tell yourself:
“That’s cruel. That’s website small. How would I feel if it were me?”
Then go there.
Put yourself in their place.
And stay there a while.
If you see yourself enjoying their fall, imagine it’s your fall.
Imagine the world laughing at you.
And you’ll change.
Not overnight. But you’ll change.
Every time you choose compassion over bitterness, you chip away at the mask.
Every time you forgive yourself for being human, you grow.
One day, the smile you wear will be real.
Not because life got easy — it won’t.
But because you decided to stop making it more info harder.
And you’ll see it happen:
The cruel people — the ones who fed off your pain — they’ll leave.
Or maybe, just maybe, they’ll change with you.
But it won’t matter.
Because you’ll care for yourself.
And when you do that, you can care for others.
And when you care for others,
they care back.
Not all of them.
But the ones who matter.
And that is enough. Love from An Earth Angel