We all have a face we show to the world, and who can tell what lies behind that mask besides ourselves. It's a barrier that protects or conceals our inner souls; some for fear of being hurt, and some for fear of being loved. We exist on a perpetual stage, playing the part we think other's will be most entertained by or love the most, but who are we really? Are our true selves so fragile that they will disintegrate in the face of any scrutiny? Aren't we made of sterner stuff than dandelion seeds, shattered by a slight puff of air? Or is the mask a way of presenting our true selves in an acceptable manner?
Maybe within our heart and mind is a tangle of emotions and facets so complex that we must filter which pieces make themselves public. Some parts of ourselves must be kept under lock and key, for fear that someone will know us. Are we afraid of being known?
The mask is a distance that keeps us from others, in some small way. If only we had someone to whom we could be completely and honestly bare...we must be known.
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