I Met a Man Who Would Not Wear a Mask

Everyone I know wears a mask, but the face of this person was not in hiding, if he wore one it was transparent. I could see he was not playing a part, not following any script, not reading other faces wondering how to react, not courting smiles and nods in order to signal agreement. He was not in, nor out of a social circle. I could tell at a glance that he would not mimic any borrowed characteristics simply to curry favor or impress. He was a man that would not feign a tear, until it fell naturally nor signal a false camaraderie, or join any masquerade simply to be accepted. He did not socialize to ingratiate, or seek influence, did not push himself forward in order to gain attention. When I met him I knew I could not wear my own mask and be real in his eyes. I felt I had to take it off to be shorn of pretense; sadly my mask was stuck to my skull as an obviously painted persona, a false flag I had carefully cultivated for far too long, now try as I might it would not come off. That same day I met many people with masks, we gathered to meet each other. Try as I might I could see nothing unrehearsed, spontaneous, or authentic in us all. Truth be told, all our masks fitted far too perfectly.