The Mask
The Mask She chose to wear the mask…
She lived, the mask in place. At times, when she felt the weight of it as too burdensome, she wondered, why not discard it and be a free being, her real self; but she knew the perilous consequences of such a drastic, if not dramatic, action. What will family, friends, relatives, colleagues, nay society at large, think of her without the omnipresent mask in place? After all, she had worn one all through. She had put on the smile when she was breaking down within; she had laughed, struggling hard to suppress the cry that suffocated her. Alone, in the crowd that surrounded her, she waded her way through, likely the lonely mariner at high sea, drifting with the wind, no compass to guide her, no shore to shelter her tired body and tormented soul. Yet, she was sure she would feel naked in the absence of the mask; moreover, it was second skin to her, which would cause much agony if she tried to peel it off. Why bring tears, recriminations, accusations of betrayal from the few who claimed to be close and the many who were comfortably distant? What purpose would it serve to disturb the fragile peace? Better burn within, than spark a fire whose flames would reduce to ashes the hopes and joys of others around. Many might say, she compromised, but she had done it all her life: it was easy to take the risk of rocking the boat, but difficult to steer the course, against the high tide and heightened turbulence. She knew from her own experience that to live a life where she had to compromise every day was the most torturous challenge, in every possible way: but she didn’t have an option - or is it that she didn’t want to exercise any option?
