Persona explained (sort of)

I went to a very odd summer camp for four years. It was a primitive camp- 
you know, no running water, no electricity, living in teepees, that sort of 
thing. It was a lot of fun, though I'd be hard pressed to explain why I was 
the only person who kept going back, all four years. Perhaps I found a 
piece of myself there, and I didn't yet know how to take it with me.

While at that camp, I witnessed a little slice of the lives of the counselors 
who lived there year-round. I had always interacted better with adults than 
with other children, so it should not come as a surprise that I spent large 
portions of my time either making friends with these counselors, or 
watching their interactions with puzzlement. That was the first time I 
witnessed a broken adult relationship up close. It was... educational.

And yes, one of them really did set his hair on fire. It was during a candle 
vigil, and it was on purpose. Did you know that burning hair smells icky?

I am no longer in touch with a single person who was at that camp.

The memories are still sharp in my mind. The smell of cleaning fish, the 
burbling of the creek, the sight of a dark path lit only by foxfire as we 
walked home hand in hand, the feeling of jewelweed crushed in my hands. 
They're all there, and they always will be. But I can't share them. I alone 
carry them in my heart. They are a part of who I am, but it is almost certain 
that that part is so deeply buried in my day to day life that no one else will 
ever see even the shadow of a hemlock behind my eyes.

That is perhaps the real tragedy of masks- that these hidden things die and 
do not become part of the collective soul.