I learned early on to not need anyone.
I learned that people were not to be trusted.
I learned that secrets were best kept to myself.
These lessons have stuck with me. Put on a pretty face and keep everyone at arms length. They don't even realize that what they see is an illusion. No, no one ever looks that closely. No one sees that clearly.
Me, my authentic self is buried so deeply, kept so tightly under wraps that she remains invisible. Never seen. Never heard. Never touched.
Always alone and achingly lonely. But never willing to take the risk to be seen.
Polite, most always. Friendly and kind. Proper of course. Serene. Confident and capable. I wear the mask well.
I'm not sure even I know who she is, lurking deep within. Beneath the fear and the mistrust, under the layers of propriety and responsibilities, there's someone, longing for something.
I'm just not sure what.
She gives all she has to give. She loves easily and often. She sees goodness in everyone. She hopes, always hopes for a brighter, better future where love wins over fear.
Her tears leak out of my eyes. Her heart aches in my chest. Her voice screams inside my head. I know she's there. I feel her longing for somone to see her, to love her.
I wonder what would it take for her to feel safe. What would have to happen for her to speak her truth? Who could possibly love so truly and deeply that their love could reach through her walls and touch her?
I think perhaps it's a lost cause. That she will forever remain lost in the darkness. This proper practicality, this unending loneliness, this is my past, my present, my future.
I grieve for her.
But still she hopes.
