Masks

Okay, so: this post was churned into action by the writings of my friend. It’s not entirely my thoughts, although I wish I could say that it was.

Do you ever feel like you’re wearing a mask, pretending to be something you’re not? When I started this blog, I was wearing a mask. It got a lot easier once I abandoned that mask, but lately I feel like I’ve been wearing one again.

I told myself that I was blogging for me and not for traffic. I pretended not to get excited each time a post got viewed or likes or whatever. I told myself that I wasn’t jealous of other people for their better blogs, when I actually was. In the words of Park:

He’d thought he was over caring what people thought about him. He’d thought that loving Eleanor proved that. But he kept finding new pockets of shallow inside himself.

– Eleanor & Park, by Rainbow Rowell

And then I pretend that I am jealous but I don’t care and then it all goes round in circles. But they’re not the only masks I wear, oh no. I wear masks of happiness and sadness and coolness and sometimes I even feel like my name is a mask. It feels like my name, but it doesn’t feel like me. I still haven’t found any name that feels like me.

The problem is, I’m not even sure I’m like without being something I’m not. I’m not feisty or confident or shy. I’m just…me.