I Wear The Mask

I. hate. conflict. I avoid it like the plague. Most of the time.

But sometimes, I pick fights. I push buttons. I look for reactions. I've always done it.

I do it to appear stronger in order to cover up my weakness. To bury my weakness. Fighting makes me feel stronger than I actually am at that moment. I'm not a weak person, so I can't show signs of weakness, right? What would happen if others knew just how vulnerable I was at that moment? It scares me to be that raw. As much as I hate conflict, sometimes it's just easier to fight than it is to say goodbye. Even if it's just a goodbye for a few hours, for a few weeks, or a lifetime. But the fact of the matter is, sometimes I DO get weak. And I don't want to say goodbye. I childishly try to mask the fact that I might need someone longer than I actually get to be with them.

And so, I wear the mask.


We Wear the Mask
by Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872 - 1906)

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, —
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!