The Masks We Wear

Prologue: Why Me?

I often wonder... not just the usual "Why me?" but the "How?" you know? "How could these things happen?" "How could it have taken me so long to realize what I had gone through?" Maybe its all really a series of questions, maybe we assume the victims only have the one, but truly its just so much deeper than that, but its just easier to narrow it down to the one simple question "Why me?" 

Even that question is complicated. But how can 2 simple words; just 5 letters, a space and a question mark. How can that be so complex? 

Maybe because there's no answer to it. I mean, what could you say to someone who asks you that question? Nothing. No answer you could possibly give will be a true answer to the question.

Think about it: In school we learn to "T.A.G." our answers. So for the question "Why me?" the appropriate response would begin with "This happened to you because.." but thats never how the conversation goes. Its always "It wasn't your fault" or something of the sort. Never an actual reason. Maybe thats why we ask that question. We don't want an answer because, the second we find an answer, that becomes the ultimate cure-all. Everything can carry on from there, all else is brushed under the rug, everyone stops caring. Everyone except the victim. 

Thats life though, it's a game of cards: some of us are just dealt a shitty hand from the jump, others find themselves in a rut later on, the lucky few start off great and are fortunate enough to remain that way. Nevertheless, we all have something in common: our poker face. Constantly having to pretend the shitty hand isn't half bad, our great hand might just be a mess, who knows? The point is, we all wear a mask of some sort. We wear it on a day-to-day basis. Granted it might be for different reasons, but it's there. In fact, I'd even bet that some of us, myself included, have several masks. Some of us have so many masks that we can't even remember our true selves. "Which of these faces are truly mine?" If the answer is none, the where or how can I find it? Do I want it? Perhaps, I lost it on purpose... to protect myself. Maybe it was recent, or a long time ago, but somewhere along the line I lost myself; who I am, what I care about, what I enjoy, who I idol, where I'm from. And I can't even tell you where it all started; when I was a kid? A little older? Highschool? College? When? Why can't I remember?

Maybe because it's been for as long as I can remember, as far as my memory takes me. I'm afraid to seek help because I'm afraid of what I might uncover. What I've been protecting myself from all these years. Years of hidden shames, guilt, experiences: they're safer tucked away. I'm safer without them. It's just-- they're starting to surface, all at once, I can't even process them, so many thoughts at once, each one becoming its own entity in my head that I can't control until I try my best to drown them out but it doesn't work. Nothing helps. Everything's just a temporary solution. I can't reach out because I don't know how to reach out- to who? - when? - about which problem? - I don't want people to worry about me, but at the same time, I want them to know I'm not okay.

I've tucked away so much for so long that I wouldn't even know where to begin, how to begin. If you had to spend just a few minutes in my head, you'd go crazy until you draw your last breath.

I may be incapable of a full-out vent session, but if you catch me at the right time, I won't lie to you. I'll always drop hints, always silently begging for help, for an escape. Its subtle, in fear that I might hear myself. I try, but just as soon as I can say it, there's the instant rebuttal. Constantly cleaning up my own tracks so no one can trace them:

"Are you okay?" - "Uh, no... but it's fine, it's whatever."

"How's your day going?" - "Its going... I guess."

"How are you?" - "Well, I'm still here I guess... didn't die yet."

Blame it on the common things; "I'm just tired" "Ugh classes are so stressful" "Can't wait til break" "I'm just not feeling well, no worries, its just a headache or something". What ever it takes to move the conversation along. I guess its one of those internal battles we learned about in English class. 

If I have a negative thought, I talk myself out of it and it goes away for the most part. A positive thought gets shut down just as quickly. Constantly fighting with myself to figure out which thoughts to act on, which to believe, which to voice, which to keep to myself, which to ignore. 

If there are people in this world who can't escape a toxic relationship or environment, then how the hell can I expect to escape myself? 

Especially when I don't even know who myself is.