I have shared a few times in my life that there is strength in vulnerability. But recently, when I took off my mask, reached out to someone I care about, and entered my most vulnerable state, I was met with overwhelm and distance, and I broke down to the core. I even apologized for being vulnerable and breaking down because I was afraid I ruined the connection, but doing that was also incredibly humiliating.
I thought to myself, “What did accepting my real self and being truly vulnerable accomplish except distance and emotional death? What’s the point of taking my mask off then?”
I still believe in the strength of vulnerability. But if I am to continue living and become vulnerable without fear of rejection and distance, I will force myself to wear my human face during the day, and become true and free while wearing my real face—my mask—at night.
From now on, the real face is my mask, and my mask is my real face.
I may be fine on the outside, but beneath the surface, my real self died. The Deranged Writer lives on.
The Diary of The Deranged Writer 