Masks and Mirrors

A long hallway of eerie mirrors
Artist Unknown.

I found an old box of journals going back to my childhood. Before throwing them out I decided to transcribe them. I never re-read a journal entry once it is written. This is a very uncomfortable process.

This is an entry from was written at the age of 17.

Strange, how appearances can be so deceiving. It seems that what is on the surface is the exact opposite of what lies beneath. I just recently broke up with Dorian. He came by my work and called me at home several times. He’s being extremely submissive in coming back to me… Dorian is NEVER submissive.

He bags about how much better he is than everyone, how much more attractive and how much more wealthy he is. He intimidates the hell out of people. But he can’t be nearly as confident and as strong as he looks.

He’s terrified by the world. He sees that soon he’ll have an immense responsibility on his shoulders – an entire company! He puts on his act of strength to prove to others that he can handle it. He created hundreds of masks, a huge vanity of thin, superficial cover-ups. I can’t even tell the real Dorian apart from the fake ones. Neither can he. That’s the difference between us.

I created several masks, to hide my own insecurities. In a pack of wolves, a thick-skinned alligator is more likely to survive than a beautiful or graceful doe. But I can distinguish myself from the masks. He’s made so many that he’s gotten lost in them. It’s like he’s in a maze of mirrors, surrounded by himself, facing distorted twins at every turn.

I’d like to find him, the sad, distraught person wandering through the maze, but there are so many twisted images that I have to push past. Besides, how do I rescue him from a labyrinth of lies if I’m struggling to survive the urban jungle, preparing for dangerous prey that might lurk around any corner?