Big colorful ones. Tiny demure ones. Sexy intriguing ones. Dark enveloping ones.
What happens when they come off? Who is that person behind it?
All my life, I've walked around thinking that masks are for cowards. For those who don't have the courage to let the people around see them for who they are. I kept letting people se through me. I made excuses for them when they hurt me. "Atleast I let them see the real me", I'd think.
The scars and the blows got bigger, my excuses got weaker. I tried, I swear I did - I hoped against hope that it'll all be okay. But it just got worse.
Till one day, a single blow brought me hurtling down. The excuses vanished and I just lay there, gasping for breath. Everything fell to pieces. It hurt so much that I stopped feeling it.
I stopped feeling the hurt. I just felt faintly bitter but I knew that if I had to survive, it would only be with a mask.
So here's my mask - one thats made of spunk, joy, being carefree - one that hides my vulnerability, stops me from telling someone what I feel, one that makes me feel powerful and strong when I'm behind it.
But tonight, its just me. No mask. No walls. Nothing to protect me.