Haikuku

Lightning strikes undersea

The waves crash on the rocks

Heart hums the same 

Twenty Six

Tales

It would all seem that yesterday’s events were forgotten. People smiled gaily as though the sun shone upon them for the first time and went about their daily routine unperturbed by the unlikely events that went on at dusk.  Sometimes willful lost of memory would seem to be a blessing, other times, it just brings to picture, that humans when faced with the most terrible situations conveniently forget. Cloaked by a sense of normalcy, to forget the feeling of teetering on the edge of unabashed reality and the ravaged mask we all put on when we leave home every morning, caging the monster that lives inside each and every one of us.

The question still remains, how long will the cage hold that monster festering in hate and agony of being trapped in by an inch thick mask? 

The thrill seekers would ask the question, what will happen when the monster eventually breaks free? 

The above exerpt was product of a lot of thought. We often hear that people put on masks to veil their inner beings. Why, you may ask. FEAR. (In capital of course). Often times, people put on masks to be accepted, because they fear rejection, heartbreak, the fear of discrimination, the fear that if people found out they were different, they would not be part of this world 'community' of the instafamous, the rich who have their eyebrows drawn on shaped like the corner of the wall, men who lift weights as heavy as 3 pretty young things. The fear causes so much anxiety so that each and every time they think of leaving home without the mask, they cower in corners (a hyperbolic description). They shut their eyes and tell themselves, let one more day pass and slowly put on that mask with an unnerving image carved upon it. NORMALCY.

I don't believe that even I am free from this fear. The fear of being judged, the fear of being abandoned, the fear of failure. Being raised an asian, I really believe that instilled (with a hammer and bolts) deep in my heart and mind, that if I were to be "succesful" in life I should not fail. Even when I did fail, I would need to pick myself back up and keep on moving forward "in the path to success". Thus, fear of failure controlled my each and every move. As fear of failure and ridicule consumed me, I felt myself lost, making decisions I would not be making if I were me, laughing at jokes that were not funny, making inappropriate decisions that I would not vouch for myself if I had the seat as an audience. BUT WHY? Why was I so afraid of failure?

Vroooooooooooommm....

Back to the past. I was three. I did not fail. I could speak full length sentences.

When I was ten. I did not fail. I could write english stories in my sleep.

When I was twelve. My mathematics peaked. By all means, I did not fail.

I was fifteen. I did not fail. I pushed and pulled.

I was twenty one. I moved forward and heaved my resources to complete my degree.

...


Twenty Six. Here I am now. Feeling like a failure. Wondering if I have failed for never failing in my life before. I am so afraid now of failing. The feeling of being at risk, exposed without my mask on. Vulnerable and alone but my mind opened to let go of my fear.

I have an imaginary state of the art store room.(I believe we all do, mine just slightly more vivid as I have a colourful imagination).

Full of masks, lined up in rows and neatly arranged on shelves and storage cabinets, each aisle labelled and marked suitable, for every situation imagined possible. At the exit of my (nightmarish) store room, I have a mirror. Every morning after picking the appropriate mask for the day, before I leave my store room, I always try to assume the character, try to evolve, try; as an actor would take up a role, "become" my character. Right before I leave that store room, I often feel a tinge. I have never understood what it was. That slight tinge. It did not hurt me but it often made me wonder, perhaps, just maybe perhaps, it could be my inner being wanting to be seen and just letting me know that she was hurt by my choice today to hide her. To put on this mask to conceal her and as a last effort clawed on my insides to be released. One day, I believe this tinge will no longer be. She might just give up totally and with one last sigh of discontent, leave me and dissipate into the hollowness I have chosen to become. Leaving me only with my masks as company.



The mood of this post is sombre. Please don't ask me to lighten up, it might prove to be difficult.