AJM

MCHS
Jenny Juniora Ajoc CN 1
11-Parks July 6, 2016
“The Three Masks”

A Japanese philosopher once stated that humans have at least three different masks.
These masks represent our personalities, and the way that they are designed, painted or adorned
says a lot about who we really are in front of certain people – including ourselves.

The first mask is what we show or what we wear in public. This is how strangers, an
acquaintance, or how the people outside of your inner circle of friends and family see you. If I
were to look at my mask, I would say it isn’t foul. I would never decorate it like that. I make sure
that people would see me as pleasant because I don’t see a reason to be mean unless otherwise.
Obvious things can also be seen here, like my age, my role in the society, and thanks to social
media, they can also know more about what I find interesting, funny, and sometimes my
opinions on certain things. The public knows me as a simple 20 year old girl studying Nursing at
CIC. They only know that I am a simple Filipino citizen, and that my interests mainly include art
and music based from my social medias.

For the second mask, it’s only exclusive for people that have known me for a long time. I
believe that they begin to see my true colors. The more you get to know me the more fascinating
and peculiar I get. This is where I get comfortable with certain people because this mask for me
is what I enjoy wearing the most. I enjoy it because they can see somewhat a truer reflection of
who I am and what I do, the good and the bad, and still accept me – love me, even. It looks
different from the first one because it isn’t as pleasant, I don’t try to make it look perfect. It’s
tainted with experiences that caused those blotches here and there, but I still think, if not
beautiful, the mask looks good. These people may see a big heart, a big brain and a big smile.
They know about my potential, and for my family they see an old soul with a passion for rock
and roll, loyal, innocent and inexperienced when it comes to love.

The third and final mask is the truest reflection of who you are, according to this saying.
It’s funny because the only person that will ever know the deepest parts of your heart and mind is
yourself. This is what I wear when I’m alone, when I think nobody is around, to be with the
truest version of myself. I don’t particularly like wearing this mask because I usually have to
deal with demons that even the closest of friends can’t help me with. But it’s not all bad though,
I also get to feel emotions that would only surface when I’m alone. Introverts, like me, get the
chance to “refuel our energies”. I get to spend time asking myself questions that I wouldn’t
normally ask others for fear that they might find it too odd, or because their answers won’t
satisfy my curiosity. I ask myself these simple questions so that I can give myself complex
answers, and this is how I gain wisdom. I would summarize everything that I experienced and
process it, all while wearing the third mask. I ponder, and I reflect. Sometimes I think I turn older
when I’m alone, and the things that I think are like from a novel protagonist’s point of view.
Maybe it’s because I think I’ve gained an autobiography’s experience in the span of twenty
years? Another reason why I like it is because this is what I show to God. This is what He can
see when others can’t. And while I think that this mask is also far from perfect, what makes it the
one that I want to present to Him is that I poured my heart out decorating it, I threw everything
that I’ve learned into shaping it, and I wouldn’t want to give a shallow reflection of who I am to
the almighty Father. He already knows, why should I be ashamed to show Him?

Who am I? I am all of those things. I’m a stranger, a friend, a daughter, a student, and so
much more. It’s like changing clothes from time to time, the style I choose depending on the
occasion. Like “A” from David Levithan’s novel, a wandering spirit switching from body to
body. I have no fixed personality; I switch from mask to mask.