Tom Edwards (toastmastertom) wrote,
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Without skin

Our hearts become tanned hides every day that we live and by every person that we meet. Some people's skins are so thick that no one can touch them, and even if they were touched, they wouldn't be able to feel it.

We put masks on every day that we step outside into the world. Our masks cover our identity, and allow us to play the roles that we fit ourselves into. Our faces change from person to person, friend to friend, lover to lover, but none are like the faces that lie underneath.

We become so enthralled in the overture each new day beginning like the curtains rising, putting our masks on like morning makeup. We forget who we are.

Look at yourself in the mirror. Without skin. Pink and raw, bare teeth, muscle and organ. A person who is scared, and untouched, darker and deeper than your most humiliating thoughts.

I have seen my friends before, without skin, without a tanned hide or a mask to stow away behind. Like huddled masses of sinew and ligament, they looked at me with eyes forever open. They were like infants, but sadder, and more frightened. Without anything or anyone to keep their tender bodies safe, they were open to the world like being thrown into the pacific ocean with your body as an open wound.

I have seen myself like this, and now it gets harder and harder to face the new day knowing I am not who I am, and pretending at the wills of someone else that I am just a tool. The way I am perceived by other people is not me, and never will be.

I just have to put my mask back on, and smile away like I don't know what's going on either.
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