A mask hides everyone’s true identity. An identity society accepts—painted to escape oneself. A mask crafted for people to judge. 

“What did you think of me when we first met?” I asked. 

My friend, Mia, said, “I mean.. I first thought you were a weirdo, but as soon as we started talking, you were cool.” 

At that moment, I thought, “Wow, I really need to change how I act; I have to change myself.” 

Change myself. 

I thought, “Well, what do I need to do?” 

“Let’s wear more makeup.” 

At first, it was like a small change. Just a little concealer and a bit of mascara, please. Nothing dramatic, just enough to smooth the edges of the face I thought people didn’t want to see. When I look at myself in the mirror, I tell myself I am improving, becoming someone more acceptable. 

But you know, it wasn’t really about the makeup. 

It was about control. 

If I could control how I looked, perhaps I could also control how people saw and perceived me. Maybe they wouldn’t think I was strange anymore. Perhaps they would find me intriguing and wouldn’t judge as harshly. 

So the mask grew thicker. 

More makeup. 

Different clothes. 

An energetic personality. 

Less talking about the things I loved. 

Accepting what everyone else said. 

And slowly, I started to notice something different. 

People liked the mask. 

They complimented it. They smiled more. Conversations felt easier. I blended in better. It worked just as I wanted. 

But every time I wiped the makeup off at night, the same thought returned. 

“If they like this version of me… would they still like the real one?” 

The more I tried to perfect the mask, the harder it became to recognize what was underneath it. When I look at myself in the mirror, the person looking back at me starts to feel unfamiliar, like someone I had practiced being rather than someone I truly am. 

And then one day, I remembered that moment with Mia. 

She had said she thought I was a weirdo. 

But she also said that once we started talking, I was cool. 

Not the crafted version. 

Not the carefully painted figure I created myself to be. 

Just me. 

That realization felt like a lift, almost like it freed me from the pressure to be someone else. Maybe the problem wasn’t that I was a “weirdo.” Or that I was different. Maybe the problem was that I thought I needed to hide myself rather than enhance a better version of myself; not for everyone to accept, but to attract people who are right for me. 

Society always feels the need to determine our masks. It tells us who to be, how to act, what to look like, and what certain parts of ourselves are acceptable. Some people wear the mask lightly. Others wear a mask so long that it starts to feel like their real face, not knowing who they are in the process. 

No matter how perfectly a mask is painted, it can never replace the person underneath it. 

The goal isn’t to create the perfect mask. 

The goal is to learn that what people perceive of you doesn’t determine who you are as a person.