Monday, September 27, 2010
The mask of being unreal. Is that even a mask? Is there such a thing as being unreal so you can please people? Aren't teenagers supposed to be these rebellious kind of kids? Aren't they supposed to be fake and not say what they really are thinking and feeling? Aren't they supposed to hide behind a mask of never showing how they really feel? I see the way adults are able to express their emotions without fear, and how some teenagers are afraid to speak their mind for fear of what people might think. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the only one who doesn't say what's on her mind because of fear of what other people might think or how they might act. Wearing the mask of being unreal just seems easier then facing critisism and opening up. Wearing the mask is easier then being real, and maybe having people think you're a freak or embaressing you infront of the entire world, or at least everyone who knows what you just said. Sometimes your own over active imagination gets you into thinking that everyone would be happier if you just stayed your clone like self, even you becaus you would never have to face humilation or pain. Maybe it's easier just to act like the things that hurt you don't affect you at all and you can go onto being that unreal clone like robot that does everything to please people. Because if you step out of that box, maybe people will critize who you are and you'll retreat into that hole you just came out of. Maybe doing all that work to make sure your mask is always plastered on is easier then being real and, possibly, facing rejection or hurt or pain. Maybe the mask of being a robot is easier then being real with people. Maybe that's why I write. I can control everything, and I can be real and there's no chance of being told you failed or being hurt. There's no chance of being embaressed infront of the entire group of people that heard what you just said. It's one place where the mask of always having to please people can come off and I can just be myself. Maybe it's time that the mask of always trying to please people finally came off and I could be real and open. Maybe then I could always stop trying to please people and finally just be myself. Maybe it's time I took off the mask and left the masquerade ball. I put on the mask, I rushed around like a mad woman trying to please everyone, now I'm collapsing in a heap on the kitchen floor, and pulling off the mask and walking out the back door.