Mask we wear

Don't be fooled by me! Don't be fooled by the face I wear! For I wear a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them are me. Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled, for G-d's sake...don't be fooled.

I give the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unfuffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness my game: that the water's calm and I'm in command, and that I need no one. But don't believe me...Please.

My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask. Beneath this lies no complacence. Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, and aloneness. But I hide this. I don't want anyboby to know. I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed. That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant, sophisticated facade, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows. But such a glance is precisely my salvation. My only salvation, and I know it - that is if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love. It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself, that I am worth something.

But I don't tell you this, I don't dare, I'm afraid to. I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh at me, and your laugh would kill me. I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm no good, and that you will see this and reject me. So I plan my game, my desparate game, with a facade of assurance without, and a trembling child within, and so begins the parade of masks and my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that is really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me: so when I'm going through my routine do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying, what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say, but what I can't say.

I dislike hiding...Honestly! I dislike the superficial game I'm playing, the phony game! I'd really like to be genuine and spontaneous and me, but you've got to help me. You've got to hold out your hand, even when that's the last thing I seem to want. Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of breathing death. Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you are kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings, but... wings. With your sensitivity and sympathy, and your power of understanding, you can breathe life into me, if you chose to. Please choose to. You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble, the world of panic and uncertainty surrounding or encompassy my lonely person.

Do not pass me by...please...do not pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach me, the blinder I strike back. I fight against the very thing I cry out for. But I am told that love has stronger walls, and in this lies gentle hands...for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I...You may wonder, I am someone you know very well...for I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet.

Author unknown