The first of many facades I place is the one of the perverted girl. I'm reckless and daring; a witty quip always ready at the tip of my tongue. I have little caution, and am always prepared to make an innuendo out of a fumbled sentence.
Another veil I use is that of the stern and serious worker. Very sharp and militaristic in demeanor, if you don't move fast enough for my liking you get left behind in my dust. I distance myself from my emotions, taking on the emotional range of a machine. That's what I am, an efficient machine. With arrogance I look down on others unable to match my processing speeds.
The painted mask of the psychopath I place over my visage. The one filled without pity or remorse, the one who will finish their tasks by any means applicable. The one who plots and plans with a maniacal grin plastered wide across their face. This is the one who makes others shy away with their cackling laughter.
The more docile mask of the quiet bookish woman is a mask taken on more often than not. I rather be left to my own devices and the comfort of a quiet room. A stutter creeps its way into my voice when I am questioned; I'm in fear of interactions with people. Intelligence is hidden behind a demure demeanor.
One pseudo name that's chosen me is the one of the raving fan. This one doesn't bear the brunt of society's judgment; no, this one lives free. This is the one always found hunched over a device, over enthusiastically spewing nonsense over a favored topic. This mask shows a far range of emotions; euphoric happiness counteracted by dark depressions.
The scatter brained dreamer takes hold often. This one creates not only with their hands but with their mind and soul. Words of unseen wisdom pass their lips and find their way onto a canvas. Idealistic ideas are always running through their head. They want to change the world but are deathly afraid of running out of time.
The next is the mask of the cavalier. This one seeks adventure and a plethora of experiences to keep themselves entertained. Always filled with a chivalrous bravery bordering on stupidity, this facade is the hot blooded defender of the weak. This one is daring and sharp, ready to take on the world one bound at a time.
None of these and all of these are the real me. I am capable of all these feelings and emotions, yet they manifest themselves into different temples depending on our situation. The false persons are applied and shed like discarded garments smothering a hidden corner. In that small corner of the world, lie primal and raw emotions, threatening to burst forth. Each time unpleasant emotions rear their ugly head, a mask is placed over my pained face, and the emotions banished away. They find their release through the different roles I play; I am only a singular actor on the stage of the world. Very few see me behind the scenes, even then only a quick glimpse. Only I know exactly who I am: just another vulnerable human living their life on false promises.
