Costumes and disguises, how often do we don the trappings of someone else? And, more importantly, how many times do we recreate ourselves for someone else? Are we even aware of how many changes and self-revisions we make in order to be something different (often for someone else)? I know that every day is a new opportunity to change who we are, but is it always an opportunity worth taking? Do we seize these moments to change ourselves for the better? For self-preservation or improvement? Or, because we feel we must change in order to sustain some intangibility, such as love, friendship, relationship, or reputation?

Or, perhaps we are all actors on an invisible stage. We wake up in the morning, and do we not decide, to some extent, who we are going to be that day? Is this fueled by our own desires, or by determining factors that we have no say in? Do we hide somewhere beneath the surface of our skin who we really are? And, if so, what is the motivation to keep part of us in hiding? What kind of costume are we hiding inside of today?

I know that words are sometimes my disguise. Hiding meaning behind words has always been second nature to me. Perhaps it is the writer who lives in that space between my skin I mentioned before, or perhaps it is the cowardice approach from a girl who has not always felt strong enough to speak her mind.

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