The Mask We Wear: Living in a World That Demands Censorship
Some days, I feel like I’m watching myself from the outside—seeing every moment where I hold back, swallow my frustration, and plaster on an expression that’s socially acceptable. It’s not even always intentional. It’s just survival.
At school, I have to be “professional,” which mostly means filtering every natural reaction I have. When a student does something utterly ridiculous, what I want to say is, “What the fuck are you doing?”—but instead, I have to take a deep breath and go with the ever-so-polite, “Hey, let’s focus, guys.” It’s exhausting.
It’s not just the words, either. It’s the emotions. The constant suppression. I can be in a great mood, totally in the zone, and then—bam. Someone interrupts me mid-thought, derails my focus, and suddenly, I’m barely holding it together. I see my own mood shift, but I can’t stop it. It’s like watching a car skid on ice in slow motion, knowing there’s no way to regain control before impact.
The worst part? It’s not even about what happens; it’s about how often. Death by a thousand cuts.
Students asking questions I just answered.
Students who disappear to the bathroom for half the class.
Colleagues piling on work when I’m already drowning.
Someone talking to me while I’m in the middle of a task, forcing me to restart the whole mental process.
People expecting me to be on all the time—engaged, helpful, approachable—no matter what I have going on inside my own head.
It grates on me. And the worst part is, I know I can’t fully react. I have to keep it together. Be the adult. Be the professional. Smile. Take a breath. Move on.
Then there’s the whole being gay thing. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also don’t advertise it. It’s another part of myself that I have to package carefully. I don’t hide, but I don’t push. It’s like I’m constantly adjusting the dial between authenticity and self-preservation. Just another layer of editing myself to fit the world around me.
And then there are the days when I just feel... heavy. When everything adds up, and I just want to exist without filtering, without walking on eggshells, without suppressing every little thing for the sake of everyone else’s comfort.
The truth is, I don’t even know what it would feel like to be 100% my authentic self. Maybe no one ever really is. Maybe we all live in this weird state of censorship, choosing which parts of ourselves are acceptable to show and which ones we have to lock away.
But damn, it would be nice to just be.
