The Mask I Wore, A life behind a mask, seeking truth.
When I was 3 or 4, I realized I was different. Growing up on a farm, I saw animals as just that—animals. I once tried to slaughter a puppy, not understanding why my grandmother was furious. It was another creature, like the pigs we killed every year. My sister cried for the pigs, but I mimicked her, feeling nothing for their suffering. Emotions like empathy and fear never resonated with me, and I began learning how to manipulate the world around me. I learned crying got me what I wanted, and anger only brought trouble. By age 7, I was stealing cigarettes from my mom, enjoying the thrill of her scolding more than fearing it.
In school, I was charming to teachers but tormented classmates for fun. My peers learned not to mess with me, as I always found ways to turn the tables. Delinquent activities like vandalism, stealing cars, and manipulating authority figures became my norm. I used my intelligence and charm to get out of trouble, playing the “troubled child” when it suited me. As I grew older, experimenting with drugs became just another curiosity, and I made friends with the wrong crowd for amusement, never truly feeling connected to anyone. My relationships were transactional, and I never let anyone see the real me.
Now, as an adult, I’m exhausted from wearing the mask. I’ve manipulated my way through jobs, relationships, and life itself. I want therapy to break this cycle, but I know even that desire is rooted in self-interest. I’m tired of making everything about me, yet I can’t escape it. I’ve never felt sorry for my actions, but I understand they’re wrong. Can I ever truly change, or is this who I am?
