A closet of masks. All my favorites lined up neatly; color coded, organized by size and shape.  It's beautiful, isn't it?  All those colorful masks that all my friends and family derive such joy from, they're splendid, are they not?  So why do I hate every one of them? Why does it feel like when I'm wearing them I'm suffocating, struggling just to catch a gasp of air? These masks, these masks that everyone has come to know me for, they are evil, they are false, yet they are my own doing.  I walk out the door and I am shunned without my masks. I am an abomination without my masks, yet they all look at me in disgust through theirs. They're not so bad I suppose, once you get used to them.  And if everyone else is wearing one, it can't be that bad, right?  So which one today? Hmmm, decisions, decisions.