I came upon the page and thought to write of who I am and who I was. I thought it best to explain the things that people saw when they looked my way. How I came to be what I see in my own reflection. I gave benefit of doubt that they would or could then have some understanding. Perhaps naivety was my flaw? The more I wrote the fewer looked. Is it simply me or the openness that makes it so? Is it what they see or the not wanting to really know? Could it be that honesty is a frightening thing? Am I better off to keep secrets and carry a facade? Would then perhaps more be interested in who I am? Would they then have the time to stop a while? Or is it simply having seen they see no value? And yet it is that I still need to fill the page... and to hope someone will see me and stop a while.
To be noticed. To be known. To connect. Not by some pretence... but for who you are... not what they gain.