Masked Feelings Novels & Stories

“You need to stop doing that.” “I’m not in your head.” “I don’t want you to read me like an open book either. It’s very unnerving.” He chuckled, raising my chin with the tips of his fingers and kissing me lightly on my lips, “I won’t stop, but I’ll try not to make it too obvious.” I nodded with a little reluctance. “Meri, she cries like she’s in pain,” the memory of it made me wince; “it feels like a painful stabbing in the heart. I literally feel pain in my chest when she cries. I get very tense when they cry.”

Clarissa let me cry alone for a little while as I bundled myself up on the bed feeling every negative emotion possible: sadness, anger, betrayal, pain. All of it built up into that long, painful crying session. I’d wrapped myself in a blanket so tightly I could barely breathe, or maybe that was just the ache in my chest.

The tears flowing down her cheeks soak through my shirt while sobbing sounds fill up every corner of the room, leaving me with mixed feelings- Hatred for sadness in addition to overwhelming grief. I stand there slowly with my eyes planted on her miserable face but my heart is frozen with anger and shame. My movements are machine-like as I turn away from her. As I walk away I stare at my palm feeling numb inside while a shockwave mingling with fury fills my veins like an organism living within me making it hard to breathe or see clearly through tears streaming down my cheeks when my palms tremble hopelessly without any control at all.

Jissa and I looked at each other and I could see that the wrinkles beginning to appear on her face, etched with confusion. I could see that she was torn between worrying and not worrying, an emotional inertia, a state of not feeling, where one feels a certain weightless pressure on one’s heart, not shoulders; where one feels emptiness and loss. I could see it written all over her face as I felt it in my heart. She walked to me, staggering a little; fighting stubborn tears, and fell into my embrace. I took in her warmth too, and the tears came down.

The room was silent except for the sound of his own breathing. "He's gone," he said. His voice was flat. Hollow. Ella put her hand on his shoulder. "I know." "I should feel something. Relief. Anger. Grief. Something." He shook his head. "But all I feel is nothing." "That's grief too." "Is it?" "Sometimes." Ella knelt beside him, taking his hands. "Grief doesn't always look like tears. Sometimes it looks like numbness. Like shock. Like not being able to feel anything at all."

The kind that don't make noise, don't attract attention, don't bother anyone. My mouth still tastes bitter. My eyes are starting to swell and I know they'll be puffy in the morning. I'll have to use extra concealer to hide it. Can't let anyone see that I've been crying. Can't let anyone know that my perfect marriage has cracks in it. Marco has never been this angry with me before. Never. In seven years, he's been distant and cold and indifferent, but never angry. Never harsh like this. I've never heard that edge in his voice, never seen that look in his eyes.

It’s not the usual sharp-edged hostility or the cold indifference we’ve perfected over the years. It feels like something raw. Something real. But then I catch myself. My jaw tightens, and I lock everything back down, letting the cold, impassive mask I’ve worn for years slide back into place. The vulnerability, the fleeting connection I thought I felt—it’s gone.

"What about her?" "There's a poem written on the notebook she gave me on my dream last night saying, ‘With or without, it's the same. Family is a blessing-or not? Complete yet feels like broken; in a mess, in chaos. I should be thankful—or not? My heart, my mind-helpless. Atmosphere; sadness, anger, pain. What can I do? It feels like everyone is drowning to the brokenness and hatred. They’re hurting each other; emotionally, verbally. My heart keeps on pounding-pained. Is it better to be just apart?’ Finally,” he said. "Either you have a complete family or not, happiness seems unfriendly," I said.

The little girl accepted it in regards just because she wasn’t prepared to speak that word again. [It may seem to us that those words like ‘Thank you’ ‘Your welcome’ or ‘Glad to meet you and not to mention that pleasant word ‘Thanks a lot for the help’ these words may seem wonderful, pleasant and admiring to others our good manners. But, then who can or who would ever think that these words are sometimes the reason to cause us the deepest scars in our hearts. Who can imagine these beautiful words can be the reason to create relations at the same time collapse the strength of living in our life.

How she locks up herself in her room for a whole day, how she zones off while having breakfast and how she forces a smile whenever she is asked a question. I've studied her this much, but she confessed she noticed my pain too. How? I've trained myself from a young age. My smile has been my mask, a perfect way to hide my pain from the public. Even Chris wouldn't notice unless I opened up towards him. Then how was Felza able to notice my pain? I was rendered speechless by her words, and she laughed even harder, “It's not hard to notice. I feel like your smile is a mask you put on to hide your pain.”