Without a Mask

The mask was never cruel—
it was careful and costly.
Learned.
Effective.

It trained me
to scan faces,
to adjust tone,
to stay a half-step ahead of discomfort.

After a while,
stillness felt dangerous—
like the moment
before feeling
pierces the chest.

Unmasking didn’t feel brave.
It felt unrehearsed.
Like standing in a room
with sharpened attention—

Too smart.
Anti-social.
Quiet.
Too loud.

Some did.

Reaction is information.
Not failure.

What belongs to me
does not require translation.

People don’t stay
because I shape myself correctly.
They stay
when I don’t.

When I speak without buffering.
When I say no without explaining.
When I let tenderness remain visible,
and my boundaries unsoftened.

What’s meant for me
doesn’t require rehearsal.

And if it doesn’t recognize me—
I let it pass.

I am not here
to be universally understood.
I am here
to be intact.