he told me of a mask, a bright “look at me” mask. he occasionally put it on, until one day he couldn’t look at himself without it on. he didn’t recognize the man looking back at him. he couldn’t bare to be alone with the man behind the act, he wore the mask to bed. he wore it while he brushed his teeth. dinner with the family was protected and controlled by the bright cast of fake happiness he wore across his face. like a badge of honor he proudly displayed something so deep into fantasy it had become his reality. then, the mask got a crack and the eye fell off. and sadness crept where fake joy once covered. the mask eventually came to a crumble, the boy was left with the reflection of himself. what had he become.