Everybody hides

behind something.

You may think you know everything about someone,

but there's something in them,

something you don't know.

I can bubble,

I can giggle,

but that's not me.

I come home at night,

and I cry.

My life isn't easy.

Others have much harder lives,

so I try to bubble just to help out,

but I come home to problems.

Money. Divorce. Moving across the country.

How do you handle that

when you're clinically depressed too.

My face simles.

My face laughs.

My friends help,

but only one ever sees past.

My face

is not my face.