PAIN. 
When faced with a hard truth or a transparent lie, our instincts vary. Maybe it’s to hide beneath a safety blanket, despite the burdens it brings us. Maybe it’s to hide our identities beneath beautifully crafted masks, concealing the world from all our ugly truths.

LOVE. 
When love is so stigmatised in our society, we admire the idea of romance, even if its reality isn’t as pleasant. There’s the thrill of intimacy, but the stinging pain of heartache when it ends just as quickly. 

TRUTH.
​When directed to share a secret that has spent so long pent up in a cage, a whisper of falsehood falls from our lips. We match the opinions of everyone else. We choose what we can show and what we can tell to protect ourselves and the ones around us from the spiralling darkness inside. 

RETROSPECT.
When we look back at the past to relive memories, that’s when we see nothing we knew was real. All we’ve ever known are lies knit from disorientation. When we’ve ripped free from the falsehoods, and life has turned raw, that’s when we recognise what true freedom is. 

​PERCEPTION.
When we see our lives through a different lens. See the sadness as happiness, see the lies as truths, have personal perception warped and turned to deceit, that’s when we notice:

Life is nothing but a masquerade.

Welcome to the Masquerade by Niko Stevens (10)

Longing asked him there
But Compulsion drew him in
Fate had the first dance
Persuasion took their place
Blues poured through the room
Harmony not to be seen
Sorrow cut in next
But was stolen by Loss. 
Grief spun around the room
With footprints in their wake
Desire closed the curtains 
Heartache held out a mask
And Melancholia drew it down
Loneliness led him away
Misery found him last
Whispering that,
Love’s invitation was lost
Hope had been locked out. 
Childhood was long gone
This is where it all falls away, said the players
Welcome to the Masquerade
Photo by Niko Stevens

​Underserved Apologies by Liv Kelford (10)

Photo by Niko Stevens
It's midnight now. 

I know I should be asleep. But why would I sleep when I’m plagued by the nightmares there too? So I lie here awake in my bed, wondering what I would say if you were with me. 

I think I would apologise. Not because I’m actually sorry for anything I did, but because I think I’d be the better person and say sorry first. 

We were always so different around each other, like facades knit together from beautifully crafted lies and falsehoods. Common pleasantries and friendly conversation — what’s in it? 

Nothing. 
For as soon as the curtains were drawn, we were back to the silent stalemate and vindictive arguments. 

I did want our love to come true. And now I see that will never happen. You and I aren’t people who can get along like that. 

And I’m sorry. Even if I’m not.

Maybe it’s best if we keep up our cover. Maybe it’s best if we look bright and happy on the surface. No one else needs to be burdened with the dark, messy stuff we keep underneath. That’s for us to unpack — so why are you ripping these secrets from beneath my fingertips?

You by Astrid Wasteneys (10)

I wanted to bathe you in sunshine 
​Swaddle you in warmth 
I wanted to love you
To tell you I loved you
But you hid
You left and you hid 

Why couldn't I tell you?

Circling the drain  
Intertwined in a desperate dance 
I hate you
I love you 
You’re all I want
You’re the last thing I need
Your fingers as soft as silk 
Callus as coarse as stone

Why didn't you listen?

Please
I need you
Not the you that you are
The you that I see 
Please 
Why didn’t you love me?
I rage against every
One 
Place
Thing
Everything you touched
Every story you told
Every sweet word   
Every part of you

Why can't I love you?

I don't know what to want
You or me
I don't know how to pretend
How to hide 
I don't know how to love

You
Photo by Astrid Wasteneys

Please Miss Me by Kathryn Burns (10)

A Face Like Poison by Larissa Egarhos (10)
You were the air
I inhaled
I filled my lungs with you
We had a special kind of love
Living in empty spaces
And red sunsets
Underneath the shadow of oak trees

We were together as one
Made up of chocolate
Melted in the palm of my hand
And your whispers
Sweet in my ear
You traced confessions on my arm
So your secrets would die with me

I guess I never really knew you
But I loved the character you played
Cruel deception
I feel better now
I've known this was coming
Since the first time you left

I hope you miss me
Like I want to miss you
Photo by Kathryn Burns
Beneath the mask
My face like poison. 
Seeping from the edges
Painting my eyes 
And cheeks red
Can they see it?
My skin, warped, stinging and cracked
Cover it up
Stay invisible

Eyes trained to the floor 
As I walk
If our eyes meet, 
They’ll see right through and
Get stung too

Look away
Photo by Kathryn Burns

The Dance of Deception by Grace Lockhart (10)

Photo by Grace Lockhart
In a realm of shadows and disguise, 
Where masks conceal both truth and lies,
Dancers twirl in elegant grace,
Hiding secrets behind a painted face.

Feathers flutter, colours ablaze,
As mysteries unfold in a captivating haze.
Whispers of intrigue fill the air,
As strangers mingle, unaware.

Beneath the masks, identities are concealed,
Hiding truths, yet to be revealed.
A dance of illusion, a charade so grand,
Unravelling stories, hand in hand.

But amidst the masquerade’s allure,
A longing for authenticity, pure.
Beyond the masks, souls yearn to be seen,
Embracing vulnerability, breaking the routine.

So let us shed our masks tonight,
Embrace the truth, bask in this light.
For in this masquerade we find,
The beauty of connection is one of a kind.

Sonny Boy by Huntley Cronkwright (10) 

Darkness. Silence. Frowns.

Most would have assumed it to be an abandoned house; it was dressed in cobwebs, beer bottles, trash, and piles of dirty, old clothes. The lights flickered, like insects twitching to their deaths. The floor was covered in grime, leaving a sticky paste on your socks if you dared to step inside. The couches could no longer be seen under the piles of junk scattered across every room, like people drowning in quicksand. The cupboards creaked, as they began to fall off their hinges, and child-proof door knobs crashed to the floor every now and then, after more than seven years of use. There was a terrible stench, seeping through the various garbage bags lying all over; it was a junkyard stuffed into a house. The only exception was the grey haired man who would sit motionlessly on the armchair, beer in hand, praying for the day to go by. 

A honk. A knock. The creak of an opening door. 

A young boy’s voice announcing his arrival. The boy bounded over all of the tripping hazards with ease, like a frog on lily pads, having done this hundreds of times before. He was going at full speed, so as not to waste any time, his hair a mane, whipping behind him, and a smile was spread across his face. He ran to the man, who had already jumped up from his spot, wearing an identical smile. The little boy lunged forward, and was lifted by the man’s welcoming hands. He was twisted up into a swirling hug, and laughter rang out into the room.
Photo by Olivia Peltzer

Take the Mask Off by Bianca Emery (10)

Untitled by Jiya Nanner (9)
A masquerade, but no one wears a mask. 
No more performing. 
Let everyone see. 
Speak your truth. 
Don’t dread what’s to come. 
Rip the bandaid off. 
The safety blanket doesn’t work if it’s a burden. 
Everybody is waiting for you.
Are you brave enough to take yours off? 

But what if I like watching…with my mask on?
I put a mask on

I wore it to match everyone else
I wore it so they didn't watch me
It didn't fit well at first

I put a mask on
The longer I wore it, the better it fit
No one knew what my face looked like

I put a mask on
And now my skin is burning
I try to pull it away
They watch me struggle

I put a mask on
I can't take it off
Photo by Bianca Emery
Art by Tamara Hammoud

Never a Princess by Avalon Fischer (10)

"You look like a princess."
You mean it as a compliment
You think it's a compliment,
I know that's what you mean.
"Ew," 
I say,
"Why would I want to be a princess?"
You look displeased
I offended you,
I didn't mean to
But you are
And you walk away,
Never realizing 
These words 
​You drilled into my mind
Forever reminding me
I look just like
What I tried so hard,
To escape.
Never realizing 
You left me standing here,
Motionless,
Face to face
With this shield I use as a disguise.
Never realizing 
You remain contradicting
This very facade I want,
So badly,
To become reality.
To lose what I’m supposed to be
And become who I want people to see. 
Never realizing 
How deep a wound you left 
Gaping in the size of the Prince
I’ve always dreamed of becoming
Never realizing 
How big a mess you left for me to clean,
By burdening me
With resembling the princess
I never wanted to be. 
Photo by Avalon Fischer

The Truth Behind our Smiles by Huntley Cronkwright (10)

A cloud, 
But it isn’t a cloud at all, 
It’s a plane.
A crystal-clear lake, 
But it’s just a bucket 
Full of tears.
The ring-jingle-ding
Of an ice cream truck,
Turns out to be the blue knife-sharpening truck,
Always circling our block. 

Lies,
Seeping through perfect exteriors,
Like our faces,
When we try to look glum,
And say “We’ll miss you”,
When in reality, 
We’ll hardly miss her 
​At all.

The unrealistic, “Yeah… it looks good”
Everyone seems to use,
When speaking
About amateur artwork.
The, “I’m fine”
Or the, “I’m okay”
Everyone says,
When in reality,
It’s the furthest thing
From the truth.
She recites the rules to us, 
The words rolling off the tip of her tongue,
From all the practice
She’s received.
We’re not the only ones who hear it, 
But we’re smart enough 
To realise she thinks
We’re the ones it needs to be directed to.
We smile,
Covering the rage
Deep within us.

​Smile,
Lie.
Nod,
Lie.
Agree,
Lie.
​
It’s all just murky water
To cover 
The sand, 
The fish, 
The shells, 
The algae,
The rocks, 
And everything else,
Underneath.
Photo by Larissa Egarhos

Untitled by Mica Read (10)

I live on the outskirts of your mind, wandering the walls that line it

You don’t leave very often, but when you do, and we pass each other, I feel every part of me reaching out, looking for something to touch, something to hold onto

If I were to grab you, I would find that I feel nothing

If I were to face you, I would find that I see nothing, nothing except an amalgamation of every person you’ve pretended to be

You wear it wear like a mask, worn out and plain from overuse, peeling at the parts you’ve tried to rip off, but it sticks to you with the shame of what lies underneath

I let you go, let you retreat into the comfort of your own imagination, the only place where the face you wear is your own 

I walk the outskirts of your mind, often stopping to press my ear to the wall that lines it

I hear nothing
Photo by Liv Kelford

The Catalyst of Deep Blue Dreams by Tarian Kylie (10)

Prawns masquerading
Turning me blue in my dreams
Can't breathe, please help me

Nightmares have plagued me since I first met the prawns. Stealing my oxygen, they take my breath away. Their stunning beauty is too much for our world, but we must endure.

Their shiny masks depict images of undersea glory that we can never comprehend. I have no true friends, no real enemies, but the prawns are something close. They will be my disease and my cure.
Art by Larissa Egarhos

 A Celestial Waltz by Niko Stevens (10)

a celestial waltz
in the centre of a dance floor
in the centre of a ballroom 
in the centre of a galaxy 
no one but the stars 
remember
two players meet
where they have met before
every dusk and dawn
for centuries
Sun dons her mask
Moon asks for her hand
and they dance as though
they have never met

Moon doesn’t tell her
of the boy 
behind the venetian
who peels off layers of his heart 
each night 
and in the morning 
cuts it from his warm chest 
and watches it 
pulse and bleed 
itself raw 
until it ceases to 
beat at all
Photo by Niko Stevens

I wish we would have gone out in a snowstorm by Millie Farley (10) 

I know I never told you this at the time, but I wish we would have gone on adventures instead of staying inside. 
In fierce snowstorms, I used to call from my warm house to yours and ask if you were still coming over. 
Then, every time you would choose the boring answer. No, the weather was too wild for you, plus other excuses and which inconveniences were stopping you this time.

You were just prioritizing comfort. But I struggled to find comprehension in why your comfort should have been prioritized above me? Is it so hard to get outside for twenty minutes? Just give me twenty minutes. I just want twenty minutes of your time. I just want a friend in a snowstorm. Can you suck up some discomfort for fun? For my sake at least?

Despite my heart’s harsh certainty, out loud, I’m a coward, so I would never say anything. 

I just wish that instead when you would have seen the battering snow and wind, you’d be the one calling me. You’d be the one asking if we still wanted to meet up. And in this version of the world, it would be my answer that mattered and I would say yes.

We would run in the snowy downpour from each other’s homes to the middle of some neighborhood road and we would fall down, drunk from excitement and the pure, unexplainable joy that storms bring. Maybe we would build a snow fort like little girls hiding from the world. Maybe we would run in the snowy streets untouched by car tracks and we’d write our names with the heels of our boots, the snowflakes quickly filling up our letters. Or we would break ice off branches and we would trek across the park field, leaving deep footsteps behind us, two sets of footsteps behind us. Maybe you would lift your head to the sky to catch snowflakes and you would say, ‘this sounds kind of dumb but I feel like a girl in a movie.’ 

And when you would say that and look at me, I would think just how beautiful you are and maybe I'd tell you.

I should have tried to convince you to come outside in a storm with me, maybe even forced you, just once at least. And it’s too late now, to do anything with you. 
​
Our friendship might have blossomed in those snowy instants. But instead we just stayed in our separate warm homes, slowly becoming distant. 
We would have done more things together. I wish you’d liked the winter weather.
Video by Millie Farley

Untitled by Maya van B. (10)

It is hard for me to let go
Of anything, really. 
An old pair of socks, 
a friend, who now seems unfriendly
I cannot abandon ship
I masquerade as a dragon
guarding worthless treasures
Hoarding memories
of what they used to be

Sometimes it's hard to distinguish 
What still is
And what was

But I cannot let go of these things
that I am willing to die with.
Not for, but with.
Photo by Maya van B. 

My Favourite Colour is Yellow by Kathryn Burns (10)

My World Has Changed by Bianca Emery (10)
I tell them
My favourite colour is yellow
They think I am like sunshine
They think I am happy
They smile
It's better this way
When they don't see me slipping
Through cracks in broken mirrors
Soft distance in my eyes
If I told them everything
They might not understand
I'm deep inside a memory
I've forgotten long ago
The crickets still chirp. 
The grass still grows. 
The kids still play. 
The sun still rises. 
Nothing has changed, yet nothing is the same. 
I wish I saw the world like I did yesterday. 
Photo by Kathryn Burns
Photo by Bianca Emery

Hidden Verities by Liv Kelford (10)

 Blurred by Grace Lockhart (10)
I sit prim and pretty,
My skirt placed perfect, 
My blouse unrumpled,
An open book poised on my lap, 
A smile etched onto my lips.
 
That's what they see, 
That's what I show. 
 
My fingernails are tearing my skin,  
Ripping gauges, leaving blood. 
My heart is pounding in my chest, 
My bones are breaking slowly, 
Achingly, one at a time. 
 
That's what they don't see,
That's what I don't show. 
 
Our lives are petty games, 
For the rich people to play,
No one gives a fuck about us, 
We are just the pawns, 
On a board of kings and queens. 

​That's what they don't see,
It's what everyone else sees. 
They are screaming at each other,
The howls are destroying the peace,
They are swearing and accusing, 
Neither of them are thinking straight, 
The harmony is forever broken. 
 
That's what they see,
It's what no one else sees. 
 
I sit prim and pretty, 
A smile etched into my skin, 
But when you see me later on, 
When the falsehoods have gone, 
That's when you'll realise.
 
Our lives are petty games, 
For the rich people to play.
                Photo by Niko Stevens
Disoriented.

I’m stuck.
Can't move myself forward.
Can't move you backwards.

I’m lost.
Can't find myself.
Can't find you.

I’m hiding.
Hiding from me.
Hiding from you.

I’m uncertain.
Uncertain in me.
Uncertain in you.

I never know where to be.
You never know where to go. 

Disoriented.
Photo by Grace Lockhart

Storm Clearing by Larissa Egarhos (10)

PicturePhoto by Astrid Wasteneys
The snow keeps falling as you’re running 
And out of breath 
And you’re twirling and letting the frigid air slip through your fingers
The trees surrounding the path break away
And there it is; the last place on earth
And it’s for you. 

You’re still running
Until you stumble
Flying through the air
You're weightless, a feather floating down from above
The snow hugs you tightly as you hit the ground
And you look up at the bright winter sky
And truly feel the air on your face
No masks between you 
And the freedom falling and melting on your cheeks
You decide you’re never going back.

Visiting Destiny by Alexander Gaudet (10)

I fix my mask and posture, maintaining the same mood as the atmosphere in the ballroom. 

The ball was busy with people I almost recognized. Painted faces, a mixture of people I know in my new country, and the old ones I remember from here. They’re draped with the most luxurious materials and hide their face behind blue and green masks. 

My heart throbs. This is my home, yet I’m not welcomed to. I managed to sneak in, but I fear I’ll be caught and sent to the dungeons as a criminal. 

I scan through the ballroom, suits and dresses fill the walls glistening with polish. My anxiety spikes as a few people almost recognize me, brushing off the deja vu as something in the wine. I let go of my breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I chug my drink and place the glass on a nearby table. 

It’s funny when you go to the country you were meant to grow up in. Look how dangerous it is for people like me here. Look how quickly they’d kill my magic.
Art by Alexander Gaudet

Skin by Astrid Wasteneys (10)

She had always been good at hiding. Covering up any flaws she saw in herself. She changed her skin. Experimented with different shapes and textures. Peeled off the old, replaced it with the new. She was beautiful, no one could deny it; they simply couldn't agree on what made her so. Some claimed it was her skin, but even among their own they remained divided. A handful insisted that it was as smooth, pale and soft as a child’s. Others argued, her skin wasn't pale, but freckled. They would claim that, in fact, her freckles, the ones that made her face shine as bright as the sun that birthed them, were what made her beautiful. They said she had deep smile lines, that she had one mole, no- two! That her lips were plump, that they were thin. That her eyebrows were lighter than her hair, that they were darker. Maybe if someone had truly seen her….

As she stood in front of the mirror she was blessed with a special kind of confidence, one that only came when she was wearing someone else's skin. The confidence she could only feel when she was not herself. With slow and steady hands she reached up, cutting each tiny stitch. She worked the skin covering her face, gradually  peeling it back, revealing the true her. The her she would kill to hide, the her she was disgusted with, the her other women lost their lives to protect.
​
She had always been beautiful. She was the only one who tried to deny it. She covered up everything that made her flawless. She changed her skin. Experimented with different shapes and textures. Peeled off the old, and replaced it with the new. Maybe if someone had truly seen her…. They could have told her; told her her hair was the colour of fire. Told her her eyes were the colour of the rarest emerald. Told her anything. Told her she was worth anything.
Photo by Astrid Wasteneys
Thank you for reading this edition of spotlight, we hope you enjoyed the pieces! Special thank you to Nico Derouin for the wonderful cover artwork! Another thank you to Mr. Blauer and Mr. Serroul for providing us the time and space to work on this edition of spotlight! A final ​thank you to everyone who submitted, without you, there'd be nothing to read! Have a wonderful rest of February,
Astrid, Bianca, Grace, Huntley, Kathryn, Larissa, Liv, and Niko