So far, I've spoken on subjects I've witnessed. I haven't truly delved into the depth of my character, and I'd like to address that starting now. In my youth, I learned certain things. The more experience I gained and the more time passed, the more I learned. Expectations were placed on me, weights were set on my shoulders, and paths were laid out for me. I followed these paths, traversing the route carved out for me while making it uniquely mine.
However, as time goes on, we learn more. I previously talked about a man who hid his murderous actions; that was just one mask among many that humans like us wear. As sentient beings, we have countless different faces—some we don't even realize we wear while others we are acutely aware of. Some pretend to cry when they believe they should. Some pretend to be happy when they are truly sad. Others pretend to be content when they feel desperate. This behavior is simply part of the human experience.
We often think our weaknesses make us less than others or will lead others to perceive us as pitiful. Our minds create preconceived notions about how others will react to our situations, and we build walls to protect ourselves, hiding behind a metaphorical mask. For example, think of clowns at a circus: you see different masks with various expressions. However, the performers might be experiencing a range of emotions beneath those masked faces. All you see is the facade; you don't witness the anxiety, disgust, or fatigue they may be feeling.
Similarly, people often hide their true selves, burying their feelings behind laughter and actions that starkly contrast their real emotions. I believe everyone wears at least five masks: one for when we feel sad, one for when we feel angry, one for anxiety, one for love, and one for when we feel alone. Our facades can take various forms; sometimes we cover sadness with happiness or anger, or vice versa. We bury our emotions so deep behind more intense feelings that we forget about them for a while. Alternatively, we misdirect ourselves, focusing on something else entirely.
Our masks are linked to lies, and to uphold them, we create fictional narratives. We lie to others, redirecting their attention to something else. We lie to ourselves, hoping that if we repeat something enough, the pain will eventually fade. We make excuses to conceal the truth and to avoid appearing weak. We place expectations on ourselves and develop idealizations of situations, trying to respond in ways we see others doing. It is simply human nature to want to fit in.
Of course, not everyone is the same; humans are unique. Each person is shaped by their experiences, friendships, teachers, and encounters—these experiences become our masks. No one can tell you how to cope with what you're going through. They can guide you and help you find beneficial situations, but ultimately, it is up to the individual to decide whether to heal or continue hiding.
I had adoptive parents in my youth and moved between orphanages for most of my life, so its impact on me was less profound than it may have been for other children. Eventually, I was taken in by a wealthy family seeking an heir, though that arrangement didn't work out— that's a story for another time. My adoptive mother was an alcoholic, though she hid it well from those she encountered in her daily life. My father knew about her struggles; they told me how they met on a starry night in Las Vegas, both families coming together in their drunken stupor. They realized their businesses were compatible when sober and stayed together, despite the marriage stemming from cloudy judgment.
Their respective families wanted an heir, but they were unable to conceive. During my time in their home, I saw two sides of this seemingly lovely couple. They were exhausted and disgusted with each other, lacking shared interests. Yet in public, they acted as if they were a match made in heaven. My adoptive father praised my mother in front of others, while she did the same for him.
My father-in-law was a lackluster individual, a trait not well-received in high society, which favored strong personalities and authoritarian figures. My mother-in-law was the opposite; she made connections easily and was intelligent, but her worth was often overlooked. Back then, societal views were outdated, believing women to be inferior. If my mother-in-law's family had nurtured her talents, they could have gained back much more than they had invested. However, people's judgments are often clouded by prejudice, leading my mother-in-law to drink until she passed out.
In public, she would don a mask of happiness and contentedness with her situation. At the house she would switch quickly, simply drinking. My adoptive father had not taken any steps toward reconciling his wife. Simply letting her wallow in her misery, as he was in a bad state. He had problems as well, his family had lost a lot of money. Their situation deteriorating fast, and he had chosen a similar method as his wife. He chose to "fake it until he made it." he acted posh. As if he was simply any other member of high society. He would don a smile, socialize, and find common interests with the rest of the high society men. Or course when he arrived home he was completely different. His face would look haggard, his expression would turn unruly, and his eyes droopy. He donned a mask best suited for high society, and so did his wife.
We hide ourselves and disguise ourselves in our personas. The longer we bare the masks the more the weight weighs down on our bodies. Like an outstretched hand holding a glass of water, the strain eventually makes us waver. Time makes all things waver, and fade away. I still think about my adoptive parents, not in a parental way but in a hypothetical one. I often wonder what would have happened if they had chosen to get a divorce, or simply stop the facade they had put on of being a perfect couple. Would they have fixed their marriage, or would they have simply broken it off? People often hide things, but never truly realize that the longer they don't deal with the problem. The longer these problems fester, the more problematic, and embedded they become in their lives. That is simply the masks we bear, and the products of them.