Behind
the mask
Do not be fooled by me. Do not be fooled by the mask I wear. For I
wear a mask-mask that I'm afraid to take off -and none of them is me.
Pretending that is second nature in me, but don't be fooled behind
the mask dwells the real me-in confusion, in fear, in loneliness. But
I hide this; I don't want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought
of my weakness being exposed. That is 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 that glance is precisely
my salvation-my only salvation. And I know it. It's the only thing
that can liberate me from my own self-built prison walls, from the
barriers I so painstakingly erect. But I don't tell you this. I don't
dare. I'm afraid.
I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by love and acceptance.
I'm afraid you will think less of me, that you will laugh, and that
your laugh will kill me. I'm afraid that deep down I'm nothing, that
I'm no good, and that you will see and reject me. I play my games -my
desperate pretending games-with the facade of assurance outside and a
trembling child within. And so begins the parade of masks, empty
parade of masks. And my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter with you in suave tones of surface talk. I tell you
everything but I mean really nothing-nothing of what is crying within
me. So when I'm going through this routine, don't be fooled by what
I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try what I'm NOT saying...
what I would like to be able to say, what for survival I need but I
cannot say. I dislike the hiding. Honestly I do. I'd really like to
be genuine.
I'd really like to be genuine, spontaneous, and me; but you have to
help me, to help me by holding out my hand, even when that's the
last thing I seem to want. Each time you are kind, gentle and caring,
and each time you try to encourage me because you 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...I CAN MAKE It. You can breathe life into me. It will
not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong
walls. But love is stronger than walls and in this lies my hope.
Please try to Beat down those walls with firm hands but with gentle
hands. For a child is very sensitive.
I'M EVERY MAN EVERY WOMAN YOU MEET.
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