The still beating membrane under my face is a lie given to those who assume the mask is just that; A mask. No, that plastic is more alive than anything I've ever touched. It is my face, while the skin is a mask. True nature is often based by assumptions, whereas my face tells no lies you will become. I am pain, I am a lack of pity, a lack of restraint made manifest. Eris quod sum, or rather quod sum eris. When I put my face into your sight, you will become what I am. You will become pain and fear, contempt and loss, hate and relentlessness. You will become me, if only for a brief moment, me. In that moment of hellfire and rage you will see my blackness. Behold my sorrows and despise what made me; For what made me will remake yourself! Watch what losing everything makes in the pits of madness.
My face is only truth, you will hurt, you will suffer, and you will die. No one can escape this. I only choose to show it. Not cheapen it, not lie about it. Bare it for you to see. Now put on your face, and be as I have become. Eris quod sum. Or was it quod sum eris?
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