So, this is a random snippet I came up with at 11:30 pm. All of this stuff is true for me. (Except, I don’t go to public school or have Nikes. I have Vans.) I really do have all of those masks (which is an embarrassing amount) and MORE. (Which is even more embarrassing.) But I think it’s super important to acknowledge the fact that we all have masks! And while it’s important to be real with others, it’s especially important to be real with God. Because He already knows you without your mask(s) on.

As I get ready for my day, I plan my outfit according to my plans: school, come home, study with friends, go to youth group. Brushing my teeth, I mentally dig through my drawers. Finally, I decide and rush into my bedroom to get dressed. I grab my baggy cargo jeans (the ones with lots of pockets), my Nikes, a plain white oversized t-shirt, and a colorful button-up to go over it.

As I give myself a once-over in the mirror, I ask myself my three questions for when I’m getting dressed.

1. Is it cute? In my opinion, yeah.
2. Is it trendy? Um. Part of it? Maybe not the button up, but the pants and shoes are a little bit.
3. Is it unique? No. I look like every other white girl trying to find the perfect mix between cute and trendy, but not identical.

My three questions aren’t normally as helpful as they should be. In fact, they just send me into a flutter, rushing around the room to find a new outfit because this one isn’t ‘cool’ enough while being ‘unique’ enough.

My wanna-be style? Lauren Daigle and Bodie. I look up to their style choices so much—except when I’m wearing it. When I put those clothes on, I look like a hippie. And not in a fun way.

I wonder aloud, “Is it too hard to be cute and make it different?” Yep. It apparently is. All I want is to make people double-take as they see me in the hallways and say, “Dang. Her style is so different, but it’s awesome. She pulls it off.”

It’s a lot to ask for in public school where all the girls wear Lululemon leggings, white Nike crew socks, and a skin-tight crop top, while carrying their Stanley cup. Oh, and don’t let me forget their Lululemon crossbody bag. My bad. 

Suddenly, I realize I forgot the most important part of my outfit. Trying my best, I wave all those annoying thoughts away and focus on the real problem here:

Which mask should I wear?

Well. I have a wide selection to choose from. These ones are just for school. Some of them I wear at church or with certain friends, but I know I will need one at school. Because school always needs a mask.

1. Attitude: Annoyed and serious mask. Says: Don’t talk to me, I’m too busy, I’d rather be anywhere but here.
2. Attitude: Happy Christian mask. Says: I love Jesus, I want to be a representative of him, even in public high school! Talk to me about Jesus and I’ll tell you how he changed my life!
3. Attitude: Lazy and bored mask. Says: I’m so tired and could care less about what’s happening. Life sucks.
4. Attitude: Sweet and shy mask. Says: I’m quiet, but I won’t bite! Please look at me and think, ‘She’s so sweet!’
5. Attitude: Different and proud-of-it mask. Says: Look at me! I wear weird clothes, like weird music, and have weird friends! Tell me I’m cool for being different, please.
6. Attitude: Mean and pessimistic mask: Says: What the heck? Everything sucks. Shut up! Why are you looking at me? Will you like me if I’m a Mean Girl?
7. Attitude: Jokester mask. Says: I’m so funny and everyone loves me! I’m witty and hilarious and roast people so well!
8. Attitude: Cool mask. Says: Bro, this is so fire! Talk to me! I’m cool.

Those are to name a few of my school masks. 

I glance at the clock. Oh no. The bus will be here soon, probably in five minutes. Hurriedly, a panicky feeling rising in my chest, I pull open my bottom drawer where I dig for the perfect mask.

Different? It would match my outfit. But…Lazy might be better since people might not like my outfit. But what if they do like me today? Then the Happy Christian or Sweet masks might be better suited.

My face starts to heat up like it does when I’m nervous and everything is falling apart. In one swift movement, I sweep all my masks into my backpack.

That works.

But wait. I won’t have much time to get from school to studying to youth group. I should probably bring my church masks as well. With another quick wave, I dump all five of my church masks into my backpack. It makes a loud thump as it falls from my hand to the floor.

Hm. That’s heavier than normal. But it’s okay. I hear the bus pull up to the curb with a screech and I grab my heavy backpack, run down the stairs, tripping over my shoelaces and clamber onto the long yellow bus filled with loud teenagers. As I step on, it feels as if everything goes silent and all the eyes are on me for an eternity of a second. 

This is going to be a long day.

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~Willow