Disclaimer: I own nothing
The masks I wear
Sitting in the empty park Shinji Ikari couldn't help but let his guard lower. Surrounded by green grass and an open blue sky he felt at peace.
'I am so tired of being here, the abuse, the teasing, if this is all that life offers me why should I stay.' It wasn't a question; he knew he would stay if only to help another but it bore down on him. He hated the feeling of oppression.
All his life he has had nothing, no friends, no family, and no one to love. He had vague memories of his mother, and that she had given him love but even those were lost to him. They say that time heals all wounds, but the problem is that given enough time you will forget the good as well as the bad. Shinji had long ago forgotten the good times he had spent with his mother.
He wouldn't lie and say that Tokyo-3 hadn't had somewhat enjoyable moments, but they seemed lost in the constant turmoil of life in the fortress city.
For every day something good happened, there were weeks of lonely isolation and pain. He wore his masks to let others think he was doing just fine. People thought him slow, stupid, and a coward, but they were just the masks that he wore for those around him. Always living up to their expectations regardless of what they were.
A trait he found useful for survival, he was a highly adaptable person, knowing what others wanted and needed and he would act accordingly.
Even when he ran from them it was only because it was expected that he would leave. But adaptability at surviving meant that he was never able to live.
He knew he was a coward, he knew that his isolation came from the fact that he wore his masks to protect himself, for over ten years he would swap personalities and be the type of person that another would need him to be.
Alone in a crowded area or alone in a secluded park, he would always choose the park, for at least there he never had to wear a mask for another. For in those times by himself he could wear the one mask he had never realised he had, but the one everyone thought was his personality. He could wear the mask of self-pity.
"I hate it, I hate lying, pretending I just want it all to stop." He whispers to the world hoping that someone will hear his voice to tell him it was alright that he did not need to wear these masks.
He whispers the words never speaking them to loud encase what he wants were to come true, he has not known a life without his masks. He has hidden behind them for so long that he is afraid to lose them and see the person that he really is.
A gentle breeze moves through the park, bringing warm air with it, and yet he can't help but shudder as it washes over him.
He felt tired sitting in the park, the warm air making his eyelids feel heavy, he had only two options stay and maybe fall asleep, or go back to his apartment and wear his masks. He lay back on the grass wanting to stay in the calm park for a little bit longer. He knew it was unavoidable he would have to eventually go back, but right now he could stay.
Closing his eyes he thought about all the people he had met since coming to the city, all the different types of personalities and how he acted with each one. How he crafted his masks so they all would see the type of person they expected of him, as well as how they all would come to the same conclusion. He was Shinji Ikari, Pilot, nothing special. It wasn't hard they all took one look at him and thought he was an average person. Acting the way the mass expects is easy.
He thought about how he had to act around some of those that are closer to him, how he had to convince them all that regardless what he did he was nothing special. He was just a scared timid boy.
He could feel the self-loathing rise up in his chest, he didn't like to play pretend, but it was who he was. It was easier to deal with the idea that the people around him felt at worst indifference towards him, rather than having them hate him.
He didn't want to be hated, he wanted to be liked and loved, but that was hard and if he made some people like him he could accidently make others hate him. So it was easier to just have them indifferent towards him.
As he lay on the grass he couldn't help but feel angry, angry at himself for how he lives, angry at others for how they treat him, he was never hated but he was treated as less than human, he had welcomed it. As long as it wasn't hate he welcomed any other emotion directed towards him. And he was angry at himself for welcoming it.
He wanted to break the mask that he wore for them, he wanted to stand on his feet and be who he was, and not what others thought he should be. In these brief moments were they only times he was closest to life without a mask. He wanted to be able to feel the pain of life he didn't welcome it but wanted to not be afraid of it.
In these moments he wanted to be done with his fears, to not shrink away from those around them to yell out and rebel against a world that he thought was unfair. To be the teenager he was not able to be.
But as fast as the emotions came they would leave and he would resign himself to the fate that he had, that he was forever afraid of being hurt by others, that he would always be stuck wearing his masks. Taking the abuse with a smile and accepting that this was his place in the world, to be exactly what others thought he would be.
"Never what they need, or want but only what they thought. I hate this existence so much." The words were barely a whisper, they were not words meant for another. They were spoken as a way to remove them from his mind hoping that if at least spoken they may not resurface. It would never work.
So as he picked himself up from the grass he adorned his mask and went back to being what the people expected him to be, not a fighter, not a hero, but a shy introverted kid who hated what he was.