my hiding place

How do I write this post? Do I suggest that the world is made of cotton wool and all things wonderful? Do I convey a feeling of woe? No one can see me and herein lies the joy of prose; I can portray anything I want to and if I’m good enough, you’ll believe it. Now, you have no idea how I actually feel today.
In person, I’m the world’s worst liar – utterly incapable of hiding my true feelings for longer than a few minutes of interaction. My mood seeps out of me against my will – written all over my face. But as a writer, I have thousands of words at my disposal in order to paint my disposition of choice.
Or perhaps you’ve become familiar enough with my writing to read between the lines and then you have beaten me at my own game of hide-and-go-seek.
Today, however, I am convinced it remains a mystery to you. Then again, who feels a need to hide their joy? And I’ve revealed myself before you’ve even counted to ten.