Secrets Help No One

December 20, 2012

“A picture worth a thousand words” I thought to myself as I sketched this drawing. “Look, this is how humans relate” I told Christopher peeking over my shoulder “amazing how a picture can express the very essence of the idea.”

“Amazing” I thought to myself “how we relate swatted into voiles, hidden under yards and yards of concealing fabric”.

Here is a shawl to cover my fears, there is a rug thrown over my anger. A blanket spread over my judgements, another over my insecurities, yet another over my desperation. One, a green one, for jealousy, few more for pride, arrogance and conceit. Now comes the mask. A perfectly chiseled, beautifully crafted face I will put over the pile of rugs that my head has become. There! I am ready to be presented to the world.

 Only I must be careful. I must walk slowly and carefully not to trip, not to rip, not to stumble and never, ever let a whisper of wind to raise the covers up and reveal …

me.

And yes, I might, one day, pull this rag off, or maybe that one. For you. To show you what’s hidden, to show you the truth of who I am … only …

having been covered up so thoroughly and for such a long time …

I do not remember what it looks like anymore …

the truth …

or me …

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