Unfortunately, I tend to find doubt and despair wherever I go. More often than not, I find myself wallowing in some form of a self-induced, unrelenting, and suffocating hole. To say that this sensation is tolerable would be an outright life; however, to say that this sensation does not occur often, well, that would be even further from the truth. I feel as though I live through increments of fractured truths about myself, and I feel as though I'm only able to survive through the lies that render them painless.

Don't get me wrong, I don't take pleasure in deceit-- it's the mask that I hide behind that defines me for who I am, rather than the person who wears the mask itself. It's extremely easy to convince others that everything is fine: put on a fake smile, hide behind jokes, and mask yourself with small talk. In other worlds, just do anything that creates the illusion that you are free of both care and worry. Someone I once knew said it best: "You act like an idiot to mask the pain."

The question then becomes a matter of whether or not putting on the fool's mask is the most fortuitous. (More so, whether or not it actually works, but we'll get to that point later on, I assure you.) In other words, should I remove the mask?

Is helping the heart truly justifiable if it damages the way the body is perceived? Does protecting the soul excuse damage to the vessel? I would truly like to believe that.
I really would.

All things considered, at times I find it difficult to carry on with the lie. In fact, I would love to be able to let people in-- but I remain unable. Without my knowing, my one form of escape has become a burden that I must deal with on the daily. Wearing the mask helps me deal with the pain; yet, it causes the world to view me as someone entirely different. Am I the witty fool that is able to convince others that everything is okay, and, through the effects of the social mirror, is actually able to convince himself that everything is alright? Or, am I the foolish wit that acts both rash and pretentious, not unlike a braggart, with regards to any matter in life, despite my age and title?

But why hide? Why do *I* hide?
Is it a sign of weakness?
Possibly.
Could it be because I don't want others to pity me?
Most likely.
Or, is it simply the easiest solution?
Maybe the wisest solution?

In essence, I could ask questions like this all day. That said, to say that everyone views it as a bad thing would be another lie. Much like the lie of wearing a mask and assuming a different persona, but I DIGRESS. I have, in my short time, befriended people who have claimed that I have inspired them. I have been told that, once they've gotten to know the person behind the mask, my ability to shirk off any sense of sorrow and remorse is that of a saint. My mask has become a sign of hope for others: "If Lua can carry on with a smile, then why can't I?" Or, more or less, "That guy is always smiling-- maybe there's something to it after all!" So, then, is what I do truly bad? If my mask can convince others, and more importantly myself, that the world isn't as bad as we make it out to be, then is it really something I should hesitate putting on each day? Probably not.

What, then, truly gives me pause? Is the argument of authenticity to my person? Do I struggle with the mere fact that I am not being my "true" self by wearing the mask? Or is it the fact that my metaphorical mask, much unlike the masks worn on Halloween, can cause dread and disarray to those who view them? Think about it, if you were to walk into a bank and saw person wearing a mask... Okay, so that's too literal of an example, but it proves my point nonetheless. But if the mask can also help people...

Now my head hurts.

From what I've gathered, the mask has both positive and negative points. And since I've convinced myself that the good always outweighs the bad, I will believe that I should don the mask for all the good it does--Even if wearing the mask helped to convince me of the fact, but once more, I digress. I think I *just* now realized that the mask has become part of the man-- that I have become that which I portray, save for certain details.

Hmm, interesting. This blog thing is actually quite enjoyable with regards to helping me pan through my thoughts. Cathartic and invasive-- I like it. 

As it turns out, I won't actually be removing the mask anytime soon.
The show must go on, after all. Critics to the performance will always exist, but the trick is to never let them see you sweat, right?


...right?

Where to begin?

I have always been enticed by the idea of starting my own blog, but the social connotations that surround this hobby have never failed to give me pause. Sure, I've entertained a MySpace for a while, but I never thought it comparable to something as "pretentious" as owning and operating a Blogger account. Some of the questions I've pondered dripped from the very same vein that others have bled into dialogue: "Why would anyone care what you think?" or "What makes you so special [to think] that anyone would want to read your thoughts?"

The thing is, even as I'm writing this, I still don't have an answer to those questions. Or rather, I don't have a direct answer. Instead, I have a rationalization of sorts that I have accepted as the one, undeniable truth. I decided to create and maintain this blog out of the acceptance that writing provides the soul with a certain level of catharsis, a purification of the emotions, if you will.

So here it is-- one of billions.

Stick around a bit. You may actually find something worthwhile.