Your fear has become your shield., your exoskeleton, your outer covering the mask that gets you through the day because who you are is a fucking lie…
…your birth certificate is so bogus it really should just be made out of tissue paper and crayon. Mother’s first and middle name = True. Your full first name, hospital, time and date of popping out of her uterus = True. Everything else = False.
How many times had you been asked “Who are you?” in some form or another and you answered with “I’m no one”? It wasn’t snark, although it came off that way. It was truth. The truth you’d chosen for yourself because yes…you were lied to.
Unmoored you sought your turtle shell because it was safe there, in your misery, in your anger and your sadness and all the holy hell that your imagination could conjure up to make you feel bad about you in the desert you called your soul and you were bound and determined to scour it clean of everything…because if there was nothing left, then there was nothing to feel.
And to feel meant you were weak.
Or so you think.
You built up the walls over ages and stages as your comfort zone, your safe place where no one could touch you and fuck off leave me alone can’t you see I’m not worth it…?
Or so you think.
Heh…yes. There’s always a “but”.
You met people who weren’t afraid of your walls, who were willing to scale them and patiently, lovingly, demolish them, chiseling away at the mortar, taking them apart brick by blessed brick. And you fought, you tossed more bricks on only to watch them be carefully removed again.
And you raged.
You raged…because…you realized…
They knew that the you inside wasn’t a lie.
She was a scared little girl with cynical eyes and a mouth to match, who wanted nothing more than a hand to hold because maybe then…
…maybe then she could believe that She wasn’t a lie.
And sweet baby Jesus that fear…that fear that they could see you. The real you. And you kept coming up with ways to scream”I’m no one! I’m nothing!! Can’t you see???” and feel it bone deep even though you knew you were torturing yourself…
…with a Lie.
And now…and now.
Now you’re guts out and soul out like a trout being prepared for the table…
But you know you’re not a Lie.
You can see what they see.
The fear is still there…
But the desert is slowly, slowly blooming. With colors of astounding hues and yes…there is still darkness, still shadow worlds of your making that will take time to fade if you allow them to.
But your light? Oh…sweet lovely child…your light is blinding.