  Write about masks. It was always amazing that the right pair of glasses and a hiarcut made me a different person. I put my subscription to Esquire to work and made went away from the twisties to a haircut that was short and clean. At least that was all the people who saw it said. Then I got the Clark Kents instead of my mad scientist glasses that I worse before. The shaving of the mustache was the final step to putting on a mask. I was shedding things to add something to my life. I felt like a new person and people treated me like a new person. I was a new person as long as my mask was one.
I was some one to be respected. I made riding the bus an act of keeping the city free of traffice and smog instead of acknowledging that I didn’t have a car. When I was running the streets it was for exercise and not becuase I was running from the cops. When I was wearing my mask, Sara loved me. She thought I was deep and soulful. Other women who knew me when the mask was off thought I was just some triflin brotha who had yet to get his life together.
My problems never changed, but I just looked different. I knew that but I like be known as being sensitive and soulful, so I began to hate where I cam from. They couldn’t appreciate the man that I had become. I had stepped it up and become somebody that could be appreciated by the world, but those who knew me seemed to just want to hate on someone who made it.
Too many times I heard “Where yo twists?” and “Why you wearing those glasses?”. The good things was that unless people were informed, they wouldn’t know that “I” was “me”. They would walk right by me and look me directly in the eye wondering “why is that fool lookin at me llike that?”. Maybe I should have said something, but I didn’t want to give away the secret of my mask. 
