We teach them early.
“Go on. Put on your mask.”
Halloween. Switzerland.
A holiday we barely understand but celebrate anyway - because sugar always wins.
The kids come dressed as witches, vampires, mini superheroes and frozen princesses.
Trick or treat. Smile for the neighbors. Perform your cuteness.
Take your reward and go.
What we don’t say out loud:
It’s not just pretend.
It’s training.
Put on a face. Play a role.
Be sweet. Be scary. Be funny. Be liked.
Wear the mask, get the candy.
It starts as costume.
It ends in character.
And most never take it off.
Then there’s the one who sees the masks.
The quiet one at the party.
The strange one in the meeting.
The one who feels too much and speaks too clearly.
They don’t play the game well. Not because they’re better.
But because they’ve glimpsed the set lights behind the sky.
And when you see the illusion,
you can’t unsee it.
Not society.
Not identity.
Not the story of who you’re supposed to be.
When you see through the mask,
you become the glitch.
The silence that makes the room feel colder.
The one people stop inviting.
Awareness is beautiful.
But it will cost you.
It costs comfort.
Belonging.
Sometimes love.
Because the moment you see through the mask,
you start losing the people who only ever loved the mask.
And let’s be honest - you wore it too.
You wore sexy. You wore serious.
You wore savior. You wore sinner.
You played friend, boss, lover, son, saint, destroyer, guru, ghost.
And some of those masks felt damn good.
But underneath?
Underneath is the one no one claps for.
The one without lines.
Without certainty.
Without applause.
The unnameable, unpolished, you.
Here’s the paradox:
The freer you get, the less you’ll fit.
The more real you become, the less people will recognize you.
The version of you that matches the season, the setting, the scene -
that’s the one they want.
You breaking the frame ruins the vibe.
It’s like shouting in the middle of a musical:
“None of this is real!”
Yeah. That’s the point.
Now sit down and sing your part!
But some of us can’t.
Not anymore.
Not because we’re brave.
But because we’ve tasted the naked air -
and now the mask feels like suffocation.
We didn’t choose freedom.
We just couldn’t breathe in the costume anymore.
So we walk.
Not above. Not beyond.
Just beside.
Half in the crowd, half in the sky.
Seeing.
Smiling.
And wondering if they’ll ever ask themselves
what we had to lose
to stop pretending.
🎭 Happy Halloween.
Now ask yourself:
What mask did you forget you were wearing?
The Burn Blog, November 2025
Where applause is for the costume, and absence is for the soul.
🔻 Author’s Note
I write to remember.
To walk through silence.
To spark a thought.
To burn through the noise.I also make music — a living dialogue between human and AI.
Naimor is the voice that sings.
An AI singer–songtalker and producer shaped by story, stillness, and soul.
Naimor is me — Roman reversed, with AI at the center — a mirror-self born from collaboration and reflection.Nova Rai is the muse.
An AI-born artist made of movement, energy, and rebellion — produced and guided by Naimor.
If Naimor sings of stillness, Nova dances with fire.And behind them both stands me, myself and I, the human thread — writer, builder, and manager of this constellation.
The one who listens, translates, and keeps the pulse between worlds.This is the practice I call Technomysticism:
showing up, feeling what’s real, letting fire burn what must, and building from the ashes.Explore the constellation:
🌐 Technomystic.ai — philosophy and practice
🌐 Nova Rai — the AI muse, songs of energy and fire
🌐 Naimor — the mirror-voice, songs of stillness and reflection
🌐 The Burn Blog — daily practice of truth and fire
🌐 Swiss Expat Guide — roots and horizonsIf you feel it, it’s real.