At the end of the day, she would slump on her bed and take off her heavy and intricate mask.
Soon she would return to her one true friend, her pen and grumbled about the unfair world.
She used to sob and wail how difficult and cruel the world had been to her.
How heavy the mask had been.
Whimpering she realized, how she never really fit in the bustling world.
All too fake for her pure authenticity.
No one listened to her exquisite eloquence.
And the minds of people painted her into a shady picture.
However may the world pull her down.

At the end of the day, her diary was always there to wipe her tears.