The Cost Of Being Known
Every now and then, I get this urge to express my thoughts without a second thought. But the moment I speak out loud, the nakedness creeps in. I feel like a part of me has been severed, and I shall never recover from that loss of myself. I will never be the same person. My thoughts are what make me the person I am. How can I remove them like a discarded appendix? They are not vestigial, they are me. How can I trust someone to accept that part of me? To accept me after knowing that I am not what I pretend to be. I am just an ordinary person who thinks the absurdest thoughts, dark and messed up ones that keep me awake at night. And I pretend to be fine every day, just to meet my demons again in the loneliness of my heart, of my mind.