Masking

It was a steel mask. More than pleasing to the eye. Beautiful. Palatable. Enigmatic. People were drawn to her when she had it on. It wasn’t fancy, but it was well made. Years of training put into it. It was both her guard and weapon at the same time. It hid her true identity, it helped her become attractive, celebrated. She collected humans, all of whom liked her enough. It was hard to dislike her. It was all by design, by the design of the mask.

She kept it on. She drank from the fountain of popularity. She drew energy from all the validation and acknowledgement she received. The mask clung onto her skin. The mask became her.

Taking it off would change it all. Unmasking would shock her loved ones, alienate her friends and all in her life. She would not recognize herself in the mirror without her mask.

Soon, she’d have to unmask and unlearn. Soon, she’d have to do it all over again.