mask

7 years ago.

As if by fate, out of a thousand different black-and-white photos strewn all over the floor, I chose that one.

A small bald boy with a mask over his face. He looked dull, expressionless even. We were asked to interpret the photo we chose.

The guest speaker began pointing his fingers at potential targets. I prayed hard, "Don't choose me... please don't." Maybe I didn't wish for it hard enough. He pointed his finger at me.

I told everyone that the boy in the photo was happy because he had something to play with. Lame, I thought to myself. The speaker went on with his own interpretation of the photo I had in my hands. He said: "I think that this boy is hiding himself behind his mask... masking his true feelings from others."

I looked at him and I just couldn't believe it. He and I thought of the same thing. But I was just too afraid to tell people of my own thoughts. I was afraid of being laughed at. Or arriving at the wrong conclusion.

7 years on, these feelings are still relevant in my life. Why am I so afraid to speak up, to voice out my thoughts? The face that I am wearing to show the world... is it mine or just another mask?