I’ve always been afraid of clowns. Masks and disguises scare me because I cannot read the faces. I feel like a clown myself. Smiling because that’s what people do. But crying inside, crying in the car, crying listening to music. I draw and paint every day. I even paint on my face. It’s so cold in this house, my hands are frozen. I can barely hold the brush. But as long as I want to hold it, it’s going to be alright.
And one day, I’ll laugh without feeling guilty, without that bitter aftertaste of failure and regret. I’m sure that day will come. I’m looking forward to it. I will find a home again. And it will be my last
Don’t try to make everyone happy; you can’t. The only ones who try are clowns
Matshona Dhliwayo