Masques d'Illusion

I have debated writing this post for a few days because it diverges from my original intent of this blog.
From my previous posts, I hope there can be seen an aversion to masks. This has manifested in my life in many ways, not the least of which is an aversion to masks not seen.
"Put on a happy face!", makes me a little ill. Why? Why should we pretend to be what we're not? Who is it really comforting, the viewer or the wearer of the unseen mask?
I battled depression several years ago. A buddy of mine insisted on dragging me out of my apartment, thinking it would somehow cheer me up. If I didn't put on a happy face, I was quickly shunned and avoided. If I did, I made myself ill. Upon returning to my apartment, I would sink deeper into depression because I couldn't "fit in", could just put up a masque d'illusion that I was healthy and my world was wonderful. Like a house of cards, that chicanery quickly disintegrated into a pile of rubbish.
I see the masks people wear. Some are so adept at it, they no longer realize they have a mask on their noggin. Going through life with the pretense of being something they're not, they don't see the damage they're doing. And I reflect on my own masks and try to rip them off and not suffer the life that isn't my own. I don't want to see myself through the soulless eyes of a mask.
To me, wearing that mask ranks right up there with the proverbial used camel salesman: untrustworthy, devoid of life, monstrous, an error on the tapestry of the universe.