There was a day I looked at the world from behind a mask. This mask was very, very ladylike. It never cried or said anything which might upset those around it. The mask had only one aim in life, to protect the world from me.

I might hurt or be miserably unhappy but the mask kept me safe. No one ever knew and therefore nobody -family or friend - was ever made unhappy because of me. Everyone thought I was a bright, happy girl. Till one day the mask slipped and everyone was appalled. How could such a sweet girl be so unhappy? Now mask, they said, severely, not everyone can be happy all the time! Just pull yourself together! So the mask got back in place and no one ever bothered to dig behind the mask and find me. Just don't make waves and we'll all pretend the mask didn't slip was the attitude.

Soon the mask was shell, then a wall, and finally a concrete barrier I called for help from behind that stone wall, but no one ever understood those quiet, desperate cries. One day I curled up behind my barrier and tried to die. That was a cry they heard, after they pumped my stomach. I woke from the coma and they asked in confusion, WHY? They didn't understand and I couldn't speak their language anymore. The barrier was cracked and couldn't stand up and translate the words into that handy lie--"Don't worry. I'll be all right!"

So they put me into a hospital and pulled the barrier down, brick by brick, with pills and interpreters.

The real me then faced the world, the world didn't like me as well, but my new friends like me better. The whole me- the one who could cry, and be hurt and most importantly be happy. The happy hurt at first, I had never felt anything like it before and it was so strange. But as I grew used to the feeling it was good. Soon I was like most people up some, down some: I had learned to share myself with others.

Something happened the other day and I was badly hurt. Sub- consciously, in fear, I resurrected the mask. The next day I woke up and looking into the mirror the mask looked back. In horror I ran -- to my interpreters and friends at the hospital- and we put that mask back in its place.

I'm me again and with some help from my friends that horror, which used to be my shield, will never again be resurrected between me and the light of day.

Bonnie Tallman

1971