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on 15/03/2020

And then, there was this haunting idea that I couldn’t shake off.

I suddenly had this relentless question popping bubble gum bubbles at the back of my mind and staring me in the subconscious. And so here I am asking you, valiant reader, the unshakable question of my rude awakening: How would one feel if they suddenly woke up to realize that he is just a persona living in the body of a schizophrenic. To realize that you are merely a shadow entity one calls upon whenever need arises to defend the weaker side of the coin? How would it feel to suddenly open your eyes, look around and realize you are peeping through the eyes of the host; you are not him, this body is not your own, just a host in need of a persona.

But then another haunting idea hit me like a derailed train: What if we all have this persona we resort to when things get rough around us? What was it we call it? Ah, yes, “Growing Up”.

What’s worse, what if we Are this persona?

And Then it was I realized, it wasn’t a case of “what if”, it was, in fact, the most common case of “actually, the truth is..”. And I can’t help But wonder, does this persona actually shade our reality and soften it, or does it toughen Us up to face  an unforeseeable force of nature? Are we all just walking around in masks, shadows and personas, or is it that the mask has actually become so “us” that when we finally take it off at the end of the day, wash our face and look ourself in the mirror that we no longer recognize the eyes looking back at us in our “reflection”. How estranged are we from who we truly are? Do we even Know who hides in there behind the machismo of the persona? And how much more naturally acquainted have we allowed ourselves to become with our mask that we no longer recognize ourselves when we are finally naked in front of who’s truly us?


Hmm.. Light bulb! Nakedness and nudity, I’ve learnt, are two very different concepts. The first, I’ve learnt, is, if I’m not mistaken, attached to a certain level of shame. And it makes me wonder, yes – yet again- whether we ever allow ourselves to be nude in front of ourselves, or whether like Sisyphus, we are forevermore bound to our nakedness. Have we become too accustomed to that which shields us from the truth we come face to face with when we return to our very basic self sitting somewhere in a darkened corner of our innermost deepest of our nudity, hugging its knees?

I think we all are mistaken.. Ouch.


What comes to mind this very moment is the foggy scene, almost like a distant willingly forgotten memory, when Adam and Eve were at first nude in the Garden of Eden. It was until they took their first bite of the Forbidden Fruit, gained knowledge that they became aware of their nakedness. What was it they realized? What was that suddenly remembered/learnt knowledge they instantly, and simultaneously, acquired that made them so ashamed of what they innocently embraced just a moment ago? And who, if I may ask, pointed out to them that they were in fact naked, not nude, that they absolutely needed to take cover and hide behind some plucked leaves?

What are we so afraid of? Who lies in there that we most desperately need a leaf, a mask, a persona.. Another Phrenos..

Either way, all we know is that thus started the fashion of Fig Leaves; trendy at first, mainstream later.

When would this trend become too mainstream that we get sick of it and decide to finally shed our Fig leaves, or is it too threatening to come out into the light, or maybe into the darkness, of who we truly are

Maybe it’s me, maybe just the shrimp risotto I had for lunch, but now that I disturbed your peace, I would like to gallantly choose to withdraw back to my chambers, and gracefully allow the persona to come back on stage and lull me back into a peaceful good-night’s sleep. Or at least I hope.

After all, who likes a Monday’s rude awakening on a Wednesday night?

by Kathrin


The opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed in this article belong solely to the author, and do not necessarily reflect or represent those of Delirium Station.

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