Almost every day,
I am fake.
Not in my beliefs,
or my personality,
or even my body.
My emotions are fake.
The ones that I choose to display, that is.
Or, I should say, the mask that I choose to wear.
A mask?
What does my mask look like?
Well, it looks something like this.
Strong. Happy. Confident. Independent.
In control. Smiling. Lighthearted.
Life is good.
No one would guess that all of this is fake.
And do you want to know the
thing that I wish most
for people to do?
I wish that they would see behind
the mask.
I wish there was someone who can
see my true feelings.
Who can see the depression in my smile.
The anger in my silence.
The weakness in my confidence.
The frailty in my strength.
The need in my independence.
I need someone who can not only
see these things,
but is willing to talk to me about it.
Whose willing to not just
watch me wilt away
and force myself
to struggle on my own.
I need someone who will slap
me in the face and tell me that
I am not alone.
I don't have to fight this by myself.
I don't need to hide.
But,
there is no one like that.
Not for me.
All that people see is
the happy, benevolent girl who
always smiles at everyone she sees.
I need someone who can
see the expertly concealed anguish
behind the constant, cheerful mask.
I need someone to rip that smile away and show me that I don't have to hide.

Yet,
I fear for that person to come.
I desperately need my mask to stay in place.
I can't let people down.



I can't let down their expectations.
I can't show them that I really am not happy.
I can't disappoint them.
And so, I desperately wish no one
will see behind my mask.
It's a paradox.
I need someone to see
yet I fear for my life
if they do see.
I wish my mask would burn in
*Hell.

I hate being vulnerable.
It’s terrifying.
Letting go of those emotions
that you work so hard to hide.
Every day, at some point,
I have to force down negative
emotions at the thought that someone
might see and know that I am not
the strong person I show myself
to be. That I am weak and that
I am struggling.
I hate being vulnerable.
It entails opening up to someone
and telling them all those *****
little secrets that you desperately
seek to hide.
Being raw with someone.
But at the same time,
it sounds beautiful.
To be able to find someone
who you can be vulnerable with.
That trust.
That raw, unadulterated trust.
How can you know
when you have found the right person?
Can you know?
It’s terrifyingly beautiful.
I crave it.
I fear it.
Whatever I share could
be used against me.
They could laugh in my face and
mock my pain.
They could kick my dreams
in the dust or
never
speak
to
me
again.
I could be rejected.
But, I could be accepted.
I could be loved.
Respected.
Understood.
**It’s terrifying.
It’s beautiful.