Do not be fooled by me. Do not be fooled by the mask I wear. For I wear a mask-mask that I’m afraid to take off -and none of them is me. Pretending that is second nature in me, but don’t be fooled behind the mask dwells the real me-in confusion, in fear, in loneliness. But I hide this; I don’t want anybody to know it.

I panic at the thought of my weakness being exposed. That is why I Frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade to help me pretend to shield me from the glance that knows. But that glance is precisely my salvation-my only salvation. And I know it. It’s the only thing that can liberate me from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.

But I don’t tell you this. I don’t dare. I’m afraid.I’m afraid your glance will not be followed by love and acceptance. I’m afraid you will think less of me, that you will laugh, and that your laugh will kill me. I’m afraid that deep down I’m nothing, that I’m no good, and that you will see and reject me. I play my games -my desperate pretending games-with the facade of assurance outside and a trembling child within. And so begins the parade of masks, empty parade of masks. And my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter with you in suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything but I mean really nothing-nothing of what is crying within me. So when I’m going through this routine, don’t be fooled by what I’m saying. Please listen carefully and try what I’m NOT saying… what I would like to be able to say, what for survival I need but I cannot say. I dislike the hiding. Honestly I do. I’d really like to be genuine.

I’d really like to be genuine, spontaneous, and me; but you have to help me, to help me by holding out my hand, even when that’s the last thing I seem to want. Each time you are kind, gentle, and caring, and each time you try to encourage me because you care, my heart begins to grow wings-very small wings, very feeble wings but wings. With your sensitivity and sympathy, and your power of understanding…I CAN MAKE It.

You can breathe life into me. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. But love is stronger than walls and in this lies my hope. Please try to Beat down those walls with firm hands but with gentle hands. For a child is very sensitive.