in the alley are the things hidden

Quick Note: the photo has been edited. Nothing major except changing it from color to black and white.

Over a year ago, during a rather unseasonably warm winter's day, I went to play tourist with a friend in a nearby beach front town. There, I passed this alley, something I had done a hundred times before. Before this day, I merely glimpsed down it, and not once can I recall seeing anything that made me do a double take. If I did, I never took a picture of it.

However on this day, I saw this mannequin just standing there at the end of the alley. At first, I took the picture merely as proof of what I saw, one of those things to show people who didn't quite believe me. It wasn't until recently when I was looking through my phone's pictures, trying to clear up some space in storage that I took the photo for more than its face value.

Actually, for a split second while I was looking at the picture, I didn't see a faceless mannequin anymore. Rather, I saw myself.

Let me explain.

I've never been great at vulnerability. Talking about my feelings...it's hard for me, and I don't think you guys here on Vocal realize that, especially with how many pieces I've written were I'm pretty candid and open. Something about writing, just makes it easier and not as scary. But even then, I'm writing behind a veil of privacy, metaphors, and poetry.

Frankly, I was a long time believer in keeping certain emotions and feelings behind a brick wall - no one sees them except for me. For example, at one point, crying in front of people, even my family, was something I left for the car ride home or in my bed after everyone when to sleep. But the problem with that ideology is that you are alone with every bad dark thought, every ounce of pain, and it keeps piling up, crushing you underneath it all. Eventually, you miss the hands reaching over the brick wall you built up, trying to pull you up or lessen the burden.

Time, writing, circumstances, and patience from those around me helped me gain a different perspective on vulnerability.

"There is a time and place for everything." My mom has drilled that into my head so deeply I doubt it will ever fall out. When it comes to vulnerability, that means it shouldn't be hidden behind walls without a way in. There has to be a door, locked up tight with padlocks. That way, not just anyone can get in. No, it will only be the ones you give the keys to, predetermined and trusted.

So back to the picture, because there's a little more to the story you need to know.

I sat down on a bench facing the alley for a little bit, just to see if anyone else noticed the mannequin. For the ten minutes I sat there, no one else did. In fact, no one looked down the alley, not even an excitable kid attempting to escape their parents.

Honestly, I wish I took a picture from the bench with the crowd passing by in blurs, kind of what you can see below. I think it would have bought the point home better than this pictures. (Talk about a missed opportunity.)

And the point is this: I'm the mannequin in the alley, baring my soul for only a few to witness, and that is completely fine for me to do. Not everyone else needs or deserves to see me freely bare my soul. The important part is that someone is there, because otherwise I'm just there, figuratively naked and alone.