A Thousand Faces (And Masks, Too)

Weekly Diary Entry

I knew of this, even back then.

Trapped inside and unable to be, unable to understand, unable to change.

Fearful of rejection, of shame, of my own gloomy disposition.

It’s the sudden change in their eyes, the concerned faces, the apprehensive “Are you okay?”. So I changed back, put on the face they were accustomed to, the one they expected, the one they wanted. I wondered if surviving the unpleasant courtesies of life would allow me my long-awaited freedom, my truth—if I could finally just be without pushback—but it seems it never does. People will never truly accept me no matter the face I offer them; they can’t forgive my ever-changing nature or just let me be.

The World doesn’t seem to allow itself to change, and all I ever seem to do is change.

This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective reflections of my creation, called “Grimoire of a Weirdo”.