We want the reward of being loved, but must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known |
I feel like an old castle Picture perfect on the outside, just enough ivy and crumbling to be beautiful. Everyone looks and says "Wow, isn't she mature, so strong." Scared to let someone in and see the mess inside the walls and want to clean, or feel like they have to clean. Scared to let someone know that I'm much more broken and moldy that people think. I want to be seen, I want to be known I want the sun to shine on all the filthy spots and hidden mold, I want someone to know and care and help. I want to ask someone in, to help me clear away the dust and yet I'm scared of inviting someone. I don't want to trouble you, don't want you overwhelmed, don't want you feeling like you're obligated to help. I don't want you to see the mess and think "Wow, who is this girl? I don't know her I've never met this you before." I've always been me, I'm still me You just don't know everything. I'm still me. Every smile and hug and inside joke, laugh and cry and secret hurt we've shared still counts it's all real it happened and it's valid and I'm me. I don't want someone to see this mold and think "What else has she been hiding who has she been underneath this all along?" I'm not a different person, and this dust doesn't change the me you know. My broken stairs and grime don't affect the me you've always known. I just need a little help, need to share with someone, need to slowly take your hand and show you that I'm struggling. I just want someone to venture in and see that I need help that I desperately want someone to look at me and care enough to start to clean a little at a time a smile, a tear, a touch a little at a time to hug, to pray support, and love and show me that I matter, and that I don't need to be afraid of staying here forever. Someone who will come in knowing exactly what their getting into and choosing to walk in anyway. But I don't want to ask. I won't burden you, won't force you into helping me clean up. I won't share, won't open up and give you hints that all is not fine. You'll walk in, you'll think your broom and mop will do a perfect job of cleaning up my mess. You'll walk in, you'll think you know what to do and how to help, and you will stop in shock. Because nobody knows. Nobody knows exactly what is happening or which walls have fallen and they aren't prepared to love me anyway. And we were made to share and love and bear each others' burdens, but I don't need a cleaning crew to come in and refurnish. You'll walk in, and you'll be shocked. You'll know that it's beyond you and you'll bravely go and get some help and yet I don't want their help. I don't need to have the mold all Cleared away, as fast as possible, I don't need you to fix the stairs entirely on your own I just need love. I just want someone to know that I fall, that all the outside stones aren't perfectly crumbled enough to be pretty and good. I just need a person to hold me and know when I cry and struggle and pray for me when I fall down, I just want someone to know. But you don't. And I won't ask, my drawbridge paint too bright to see the shadows from inside. My windows tinted lovely shades of pink and green and gold, and people who just look and smile who never see my hand timidly open, waiting for maybe someone who looks and really sees that all I really want is just a best friend. "Look," they say "See the pretty castle?" And I smile and wave and play the part and watch them walk away. And I'll quietly wait and hide and crack alone inside the sunkissed stones, wishing for a smile and a hand. But I'm fine at least I smile and pretend that nothings wrong. And I'm sure one day I'll make it, so I'll cling and wait and crack, and cry, and wait, and long, sitting pretty on my perfect patch of grass. Unwilling to communicate unable to say anything that matters at all, even how I'm at a loss for words can't speak, exactly how I feel. So you smile, you peer, you pry, but I can't let you in I wish that I could let you in but I can't let you see inside the walls. I smile and shake my head and wish that I could tell you everything. "I'm fine. Just a little tired." And you nod and talk and think that nothings wrong. And I yearn inside and long to let you know, to catch a glimpse of what is going on and know just how I feel but I keep it closed and wish that you could see. I barricade myself and build the walls so high and strong and wish that I could tear them down and let the drawbridge fall but I can't. Even though I'm hurting I can't ask for help and make someone else bear my pain and guilt. "Look, isn't the glass so pretty?" |