Sunday, January 4, 2009

Parade of Facades

Why do we hide? Why do we live with these masks? And I am not talking about just protecting the ugliness we have inside, I am talking about the jems and the personality we have inside each of us. The real you. Why do we always attempt to entertain, please, or control peoples' perception of what we think we should be? Why can we not sit down and be real?

Part of friendship is based on trust and understanding the reality of the other friend. It is trying to care for other people in this careless world. Why do we continue to shield ourselves from the possibilities of that true friendship? I know the simple answer to that. I know about pain. I know about losing trust. I know about fear. And I know about searching for love and finding none. I know the answer to all of that, but can we still not try again? All of us? What if for once we could let down our guard and both of us actually try to be genuine and not vain: trying to seduce, succumb, or steal [no alliteration intended].

I am tired of the game. We know we all want to be loved and that comes with a certain amount of love given. Accept the fact that you are going to get hurt in all of this. No one ever said life would be easy. Grow up and accept that. Act like an adult long enough to see other people for who they are, not just who they act to be. Be real and they will feel the safety to be real as well. I know that I don't feel safe, but for once I am not concerned about me. I want to open up and accept people for who they are. And to be honest, I might not like you. You probably do not care, but if we are at least honest with each other we can cut the crap and quit wasting our time and our energy trying to pretend that we might be friends sometime. There have been a few people that I have really seen into and it amazes me at the beauty underneath, especially in spite of the "beauty" they are trying to display.

We all want to be loved, but when people fall in love with the display, it kills the true love.

Quit hiding.

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