Lucy meets distortion

The days go on, the months pass by and I have lived to my best ability, tried, knocked on each door to find what more I could give, to not be jaded, to not grow weary, to always have that fresh smile, brighten someone's day, to be a source of hope when that is what the world needs, I have tried, tried again and again, even to doors that slam, to those who spit and shame me, called me deluded, name calling never bothered me ... ... did it? For now I wonder if I had simply buried it deep down, in the recesses of my mind, there is a stranger talking back, of what rubbish I have given to that well of hope, hope of what? The footsteps I believed were unwavering because I was on solid grounds have begun to sink, sink holes, putrid gases and I find my other self with a sneer, a scowl, a grin that mocks, I am here with you she tells me, he tells, me, who is this me? And it seems that every thing I have ever done was simply just trying to convince myself that the well was eternal.