Please Hear What I Am Not Saying

Don't be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask, I wear a thousand masks, masks that I am 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 God's sake don't be fooled.
I give the impression that I am secure, and that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness is my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command and need no one

But don't believe me... please!
My surface may seem smooth, but any surface is my mask, beneath lies NO complacence
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear and aloneess-but- I hide this
I don't want anyone to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear of being exposed.
That's why I practically 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 is followed by acceptance, if it is followed by love.
It is the only thing that can 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 that your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love.
I'm afraid that you will think less of me and you will laugh....
and your laugh would kill me.
I am afraid that deep deep-down I'm nothing, that I am no-good, and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate 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 savvy tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me, so when I am through with my routine don't
be fooled by what I'm saying.
Listen carefully and try to hear what I am saying, what I would like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say but
I can't
I dislike hiding
Honestly!
I dislike the superficial game I'm playing, the superficial, phony game.
I'd really like to be genuine and spontaneous, and me, but you have 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 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 power of understanding
you can breath life into me.
I want you to understand that. I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me, how you can be the creator of the person that is me if you choose to.
You can release me from my shadow world of panic and uncertainty,
from my lonely prison.
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 everything I cry out for,
But I am told that love is stronger than walls and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down these walls with firm hands, but with 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 and woman you meet.

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