Masks "You are beautiful!" They said. "But can't you see my flaws?" I ask. "Can't you see these lines that form? Where do you think these bruises come from?" "But you are so happy!" They skeptically wondered allowed. "But can't you see the tears behind my eyes?" I asked in earnest. "Can't you see my sadness when people look away?" "But, but you are inspirational!" They confirmed with slight anxiety behind their lips. "Am I?" I pushed. "Are you oblivious to the small lines paved across my helpless body. Have you not seen my past? The drugs and the cigarettes and the booze. The men and the violation?" I hoped they could feel the bitterness in my words. "Ok." They paused. "Who are you then? Apart from someone who is achieving and personable and beautiful and loving and empathetic and inspiring and selfless. Tell us, who are you?" Gasp and inhale. Blatantly I purged my words, saying. "I am the truth. I am the truth that in pain and in suffering you can make it. You will fuck it up and you will fuck up things around you but you can make it. See this facade? See this lie? It kept me going, because as you are all doing right now, if I was to show you my truth, you wouldn't believe me because everyone believes lies when they are hidden for so long. People are afraid to accept that we are hungry for pain. We yearn for significance. And that comes through in attracting the sympathy of others. We are all a lie. I am no more a lie that the rest. I am not going to tell you who I am because I do not know who I am. If I knew that I would be far superior than all of you here. I would be the most powerful person on earth if I understood myself. So who am I? I am who you want me to be. I will be everything you have said today or I will be the sad girl struggling in silence with dents on her skin that maybe just maybe you will take the effort to see. And touch. And kiss. And maybe admire. And accept. Yeah you better fucking accept." The didn't say anything. They didn't understand.