Behind the Mask Between the Maybe’s

 



I feel caught between masks, trapped in a strange in-between. One part of me wants to hide every piece of who I am, while another part aches to just be myself—so badly that it hurts

Everyone I know fell for the version of me that’s hidden behind the mask. What if I take it off, and they don’t love me anymore? What if I’m too much or not enough? What if I let my autism show “too much”, and they think I’m making it up? It’s a doubt that’s followed me my whole life.

But what if, by shedding this mask, I find my people? What if the weight I’ve been carrying finally lifts? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do I keep everything bottled up?

Sometimes, I just want to disappear, to escape all the eyes watching me, judging me. Do they think I do drugs because of the scabs on my face? It’s just anxiety—my face gets the brunt of it.

Maybe being myself is the first step to loving myself. Maybe I just need to rip off the mask, like a bandaid, take a deep breath, and dive in.

Maybe a part of me will always stay hidden. Maybe I care too much to ever live unapologetically. Maybe I am too much. Maybe I’m not enough. Maybe I share too much—my highs and lows spilling out. Maybe my actions don’t always match my words.

Maybe I speak too much, or not enough. Maybe I analyze everything until it’s unrecognizable.
Maybe I’ll find my way.

Maybe they’ll accept me, maybe they won’t.
But deep inside, something is begging to break free.

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