No, I haven't forgotten about this blog.
We all do things that we know aren't necessarily good for us, but nor do they necessarily harm us. We're not sure why we do them, we just know they help us along.
We also put on masks. We don't suppose the world at large, or the select few we share space with, could handle all our shit in its raw form. Or maybe the thought is that we couldn't handle ourselves that raw. Maybe we're faking it until we make it. Maybe we want the security that comes from being behind something.
I had a thought coming out of the shower that the two phenomena are related. Some of our masks get so familiar, so essential to our daily lives, that we can forget we're putting them on. We stop feeling the mental motions we go through to quiet our facial ticks, reign in that urge to speak our true minds, and otherwise present someone that the world won't ostracize.
Whether that mask is made of silk or cast iron, putting it on takes work no matter what. It's still a chore that we do, and eventually what was once a tantrum-inducer becomes muscle memory. A little thing you don't notice until one day you noticed that you stopped noticing, but it still takes effort.
Where do we get the energy to do something we forget we're doing? Maybe it's from the little indulgences that aren't problems until they become problems.
Seems like the two share some things. That's all.