No More

A mask, you say?|
 

You say that you wear a mask? At some point in time, you adorned this thing that is not you. That is your claim, my claim, our claim in a nutshell. We don these things of mystery to cover ourselves up; to become masters of disguise. They conceal our true intentions and our wishful thoughts. Our desires morph into something else with each mask we choose to wear. The yellow one for today, all bright and happy, optimistic. The red one I'll save for later, when I'm livid and beside myself with rage. Green is for the color I adopt when she latches onto your arm. And when I'm feeling down? The blue one with the frown, of course.
 

These colored masks are standard issue. We stand in line with anxious hands, waiting to receive something we do not need. Everyone has a mask, you say? I must disagree. While you all smile behind your multi-colored masks, I sit and ponder mine. My mask is not a mask at all. Labeling your emotions with different faces and colors won't get you anywhere. You cannot live without experiencing any of the emotions mentioned before hand. By calling them masks, it implies that we are able to discard them freely, as we wish. Do you know anyone who can live without despair or weakness? Do you know anyone who lives without experiencing love or happiness at least once in their life time?

I don't.
 

My mask is more grotesque than you could ever imagine. While you sit there fiddling with your straps and feathers and bows, I peel back my skin and reveal the ugly person underneath. My so-called "masks" are a part of me. There's no changing that. I am who I am, and I cannot deny it in the least. To discard my flesh in exchange for a simple mask would be trecherous; for I am not a beautiful and perfect human being, but I do not deserve to be thrown out like trash. I am not a monster with my ugly faces and sneers. I'm more human that any of you. I retain my sense of self; or as Sartre called it, "my human dignity."
 

You people with your frivolous masks can exchange any one you desire. It makes no difference to you if you take away the frown and replace it with a painted on smile. You can change yourself to your heart's content. Try that with me; just try. Once you've pulled back the skin yourself, try and rearrange the veins. You'll break them, you'll bust them. The blood will spurt forth and I will be no more. I will lay dead on the asphalt, and you will lay a somber mask upon my face as you fold my hands.
 

And I will be No More;
No more sense of self.
No more human dignity.

Author's Note

Hiiii-o :)

Reviews

[TLK]

This is rather chilling. I'm not quite convinced how masks link with dignity, though.