Underneath this mask I wear, is a version of me I dare not share. Not with the world, not those who know me the best, if I am hones- not even with myself.
The one behind the shield is fractured and unhealed, so broken her plea never revealed. She is small and terrified, teeth chattering low,silent with pity confused by the anger and the violence she had to know.
To acknowledge that girl, to speak her nam, would somehow undermine the woman I became. Why risk comforting her? Why let her mourn the childhood lost the moment she was born?
I've spent these years lying to her face, outrunning the echos of pain at all y cost. Looking back runs the risk of losing my hold,on the version. Of me I am have come to know.
This pretty little mas, sculpted from the fal, reshaped broken and cracked, a resilience forged in pain. Look I whisper," it's okay, we've come so far" understanding now more than ever that the mask is less for the world than a cage for her rage.
A rage that is her right, a fury she could claim, but if unleashed- the world might simply slip away and the real question becomes am I strong enough now to survive such a long drop?
About the Creator
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smith7 days ago in Humor
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