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                                     The Masks We Wear


                   Although I know its unfair I reveal myself one mask at a time.

                                                                                                                                                            -Stephen Dunn


The world is a place of masks. One big, gargantuan masquerade. Everyone wears a mask, from the day they are born. As babies these masks are near non-existent, always bright, cheerful, and colourful. But time tells no lies, and as the babies grow, their masks take form, they wash away their childhood colours until suddenly they are adults, masks hardened over the years, becoming monotonous, boring, repeated.


Experience makes them malleable.


It takes a truly exceptional individual to understand Brokened-Masks,those that have undergone kintsugi, the act of having one’s mask broken, only to be repaired, put back together, with precious metals. It is not the fact that it is bonded with gold or silver that makes the fractured mask valued, but rather “that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken”.The Kintsugi do not hide their damage, they illuminate it.


Then there are others who hide behind their masks, who twist and bend their false facades until a warped appearance consumes them, and their character is lost. The Misleading-Masks. Their masks are many layered, always being plastered by fake expressions yet, somehow, extremely fragile, as if the slightest touch would break them apart. These are the ones who have only the smallest hope of ever showing themselves for what they really are.


Some even go so far as to wear multiple masks,trading each mask for another better suited to the occasion, or in order to assume a different identity, becoming the Multi-Masks. This requires great effort and severe strain on the individual, providing that they can cope with the constant change, but is often not the best way to live.


The most treasured masks are the ones that remain youthful, despite the old faces they hide. The ones that remain unscarred.The ones that have smiling faces and rosy cheeks,with soft hair and glittery eyes. The same glittery eyes that its wearer has in spite of the toll age takes on everything. Many try to copy the Young-Masks by painting their own. Still they could never cover up the frowns, the scowls, or the smirks that confess their true nature.


Close by are Almost-Masks, unique persons who wear partial masks, both loved and hated. Loved because they have the confidence to show parts of their true selves, but hated by others for envy at not being able to ascertain such a revelation.


Lastly, and though they are very few -they exist- there are the No-Masks. Special people, strange in their own right. They may have never had a mask to begin with or took it off.


They.Show.Their.Faces.


To someone who wears a mask, No-Masks are a surprise.To others, a shock. Imagine them with the faces they were born with, without the constraints of a mask to hide the wrinkles they get from laughing too long, the worry lines on their foreheads, the scars from fights, the burns of adversity, with every emotion they feel and can express. The thought at such a vulnerability transforms itself into a phobia for most, intrigue for few. Although, it does not matter for the No-Masks. They have chosen to live life this way, and with the lemons they are given, they make their own brand of lemonade.


But.


Maybe.


Its time to take off the masks we wear.