Me on the rooftop

I was laying here on the rooftop staring into the sky. Even though there were no clouds I could not see the stars but i know they were there. There was a time when i met with my friends for the very last time without knowing, that that would be the last time we will come together. Today was just the same kind of day. I grab with my left hand down and lift a mask above me into the sky. Tomorrow will be the day, when i will wear this mask and i will never be able to take it off again. I can not remember when i was given this piece of wood but since i can remember i was tasked to make each day one cut on it. This mask should be personal something that was original me, and in the beginning it was, but the times have changed. No not the times and not the people, it was my viewpoint that changed and i realist that it was not about me. Not the least. The looks when i tried to be creative. The knife like advises which pushed me, without knowing, to follow the way everyone else shaped the mask. How come, that in a time where no one is satisfied with what they got, that they advise me how i should do? Is it that they do not want anyone else to be happy because of their self hate? I put down the mask I thought about the people how through away their masks. These activists with the name NYLR. They do the things that they believed to be right. I thought about them a few times, afraid that my thoughts would be seen by other, i hide them. How should I know what is right for me? The NYLR life a hard life, i do not know if i could.

I hear the bells ringing. I whisper to myself: Happy Birthday.

I was still alone. The sky look the same but something was missing. I lost something. It was just me and the cold feeling of a mask on my face.