I have a collection of masks. It ranges from the unhappy, peculiar to the eternally perplexed. I don each mask for reasons of my own choosing. The fear of being mediocre terrorizes me thus I crave for spontaneity and the constant venturing into the unknown. That unknown is myself.

When I finished school. I though that I had a definition in this world. I was made to believe that my mask was transparent that I can convince others that they see the authentic being infront of them. Little did I know that I would just be passing, failing over and over again until I would eventually question myself, ‘Who am I?’ As my face changed so did my masks. I learned that I can never fully figure out who I am and that reading self- help books would not do either.

I am not miserable but I wail when I fail.
I am opinionated but admit I am also hypocritical.
I am independent but I am afraid of dying alone.
I am forgiving but I am not forgetful.
I am confident but I am also diffident
I am

..still the greatest puzzle I have yet to solve