Personal Reflection (MoM style)
We polish the edges, step back, and flash a plastic smile. Then we exhale in disgust when no one is looking. Our version of living, but really it’s just surviving—barely. And here’s the sickness: we convince ourselves this survival is enough. But are we really surviving if all we’re doing is pretending to be something we’re not?
Pretending is seductive. It gets you through the door, keeps the questions away, and buys you one more day in the crowd. But it eats you slow. The act starts to calcify until it’s no longer an act at all. You smile so often you forget what your face feels like without it. You say “I’m fine” so many times that you forget what broken sounds like in your own voice. And one day, you can’t tell if there’s anything left beneath the role you’ve rehearsed into permanence.
Vonnegut wasn’t just warning us about fooling others—he was warning us about the quiet death of fooling ourselves.
Reflective Prompt for Readers
What part of your life have you been polishing for show while exhaling in disgust when no one’s watching?
If you stopped pretending for a single day, what truth would finally crawl out from underneath the mask?
Memoirs of Madness 