Pictures of my soul.

A long time ago, something like 3 years now, a friend of mine asked to take pictures of me and two other friends dressed as clowns. One side of my face was painted perfectly. The other was smudged.
I was afraid of clowns you see.
Yet looking back on the pictures, I feel like that camera saw into the very fabric of my soul.

I paint my face every day, yet behind it my thoughts and emotions are smudged and broken.
I represent fear through how I write, the horror that fills the pages beneath my fingertips are those that should be concealed away from the world, but it showed through my face.
 I am just another painted face in the sea of humanity, perfect, until you look closer; Then you see only one side is perfect, the other is... dark... wiped clean... yet still remains stained.