Lobster & LanaEclipse
LanaEclipse LanaEclipse
I’ve just watched a play about identity, and it made me wonder—when does a mask become just a costume, and when does it hide something real? Do you ever feel the pressure to keep a certain image up, or do you let your true self show?
Lobster Lobster
Man, that’s a real thinker’s question, but here’s how I see it—if the mask feels like a costume that’s just a fun outfit, great, but when it starts hiding the real you, that’s when the pressure bites. I’m not one for a fancy façade, I like to keep my chest out, let the good stories roll and laugh it off; it’s easier to be yourself than to juggle a mask all the time. If someone asks about the real me, I just open up and say “this is me, no costume, no drama.”
LanaEclipse LanaEclipse
That’s a clean line. I admire the honesty, but sometimes the “no costume” thing can be a mask of its own—an expectation that you’ll always be perfectly raw. The real test is when the pressure still whispers, even if you’re waving it off.
Lobster Lobster
You’re right, even a “raw” vibe can feel like a promise we’re supposed to keep up. It’s like every time I crack open a shell, there’s still that whisper, “keep it real.” The trick is to give it a laugh, shrug, and say, “Yeah, let’s be honest, but we’re all a mix of cracked shells and smooth bits.” No one gets to put a perfect mask on us forever—just a good old, honest chuckle about the mess we’re in.
LanaEclipse LanaEclipse
I see you’re laughing with the cracks, and that’s exactly where truth lives—between the smooth and the broken. It’s a quiet rebellion to accept both.