Disconnect

It appears my thoughts, my ideas, my musings and such have been unsettling for some people. I've had confrontations with people I know about things that I say or do. Particularly, they have problems with these entries.

Some have noted a disconnect, or even a downright contradiction between my entries and what I say in person. Have I been lying? Am I hiding behind a mask?

No. At least I don't think so. A mask is meant to obscure truth, whether the concealment is evident or not. It exists to conceal a face, or metaphorically, to hide an essence that identifies an individual.

To say that I hide behind a mask would imply that I am not appearing as my true self before others. There's a problem with this idea. As I said already, a mask exists to obscure truth. A mask's existence is affirmed by the existence of a private identity. The relationship between the two is not mutual, for a private identity need not be masked to be private. A hermit who isolates himself from society can have a private identity if no one knows about it, but he need not create a false persona to hide his true self. But a mask can only exist if the object it is meant to hide exists as well. If there's nothing to hide, there's no mask.

I'm not hidden behind a shell; I am a shell. There's a hollowness within me that grows continuously. Life is so daily, and it's worse by the day. It's the same thing everyday. Wake up feeling like I haven't slept, feeling like my wound has worsened rather than healed. The weather doesn't help my mood much. I remember the days when I would stay up late in the night to admire the quietness of the winter night, a cool blanket of white feathers hiding the cracked streets and rooftops, or the bright mornings when it seemed like the entire surface of the world shined. Not anymore. It's a pain to clear the snow every other day. It's a pain to trek through the blistering cold in the mornings when the paths are still blocked, just to get to work on time with thin black dress pants that the biting cold air easily penetrates. I open the fridge every morning and there's nothing in it. The bills are an eyesore on the kitchen counter, and the plants are turning deep brown. I won't get rid of them though. They might grow again come spring. They are starting to smell sour, however. It's very unpleasant. But enough of this. I'm going to bed.