A Letter on the Mask You Outgrew

Dear Mask,

I put you up on the shelf because I think you've outstayed your welcome. Or maybe I've just outgrown you.

I used to put you on all the time because it felt safe. You protected me, and you held the secrets I didn't have the capacity to hold at the time. You allowed me to show up in spaces where I thought I should be. But it didn't always feel natural, and it didn't always feel comfortable. I sat there, slightly shifting in my chair, trying to adjust the mask, the outfit, the hair — double-checking to make sure people couldn't see behind it.

I'm not quite sure if I was uncomfortable in those spaces, or if I just knew the people there preferred the mask. They preferred the version of me that allowed them to feel comfortable, and I obliged, for better or worse.

But hiding behind you left me in a position where pretty soon, I forgot what my actual face looked like. Who was I underneath? Life continued to go, but I wasn't looking at myself. I was too busy deciding which mask to wear, picking them off the wall like outfits.

I wasn't writing this to call myself out. I just wanted to tell you that I've outgrown you. You can stay on the shelf, that's fine. You earned your space. But you'll be art now — a piece of me I can look up at and notice.

It's time to move on without you, whenever I figure out exactly who that is.