I am a man, not an African American man as some may say but just a man. I only belong to one race and as the great Bruce Lee said that's the human race. Yet to win this race, I put on a mask that's fake. This mask not only deceives the ones  around me but myself most of all, because your depiction of yourself is what matters most of all. Lying to yourself  can be worse than lying to others, I tell myself I'm a fighter when I am really just a lover. Actually more than just a lover, a man who fights for what he loves, but I fear to tell what I love, for fear of being judged. Yet my biggest critic isn't others, my biggest critic is me, these chains of uncertainty around my heart, to which only I hold the key. So I am taking off this mask, scared and anxious of what I might see, but in the end, what I see will be the true me.