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I think about the people I love and the roles I’ve played for them. I have been a daughter who tried to be the steady anchor for a mother who, despite her own bruises, never let me see the cracks in her armor. I have been a friend who laughs loudly at jokes I barely understand, because sometimes the only way to hold someone’s hand is through a shared smile, even if it’s a façade. I have been a lover, too, and in the tenderness of those moments I felt both the exhilaration of being seen and the terror of being vulnerable. Each of these identities is a mask, yes, but also a layer—each layer protecting a core that I’m still learning to trust.
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