Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear for I wear a mask* a thousand masks* masks that I'm afraid to take off* and none of them is me. Pretending is an art that's second nature with me* but don't be fooled* for God's sake don't be fooled. I give you the impression that I'm secure* that all is sunny and unruffled with me* within as well as without* that confidence is my name and coolness my game* that the water's calm and I'm in command and that I need no one* but don't believe me. My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask* ever-varying and ever-concealing. Beneath lies no complacence. Beneath lies confusion* and fear* and aloneness. But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed. That's 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 such a glance is precisely my salvation* my only hope* and I know it. That is* if it's followed by acceptance* if it's followed by love. It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself* from my own self-built prison walls* from the barriers I so painstakingly erect. It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself* that I'm really worth something. But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to* I'm afraid to. I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance* will not be followed by love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me* that you'll laugh* and your laugh would kill me. I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing and that you will see this and reject me. So I play my game* my desperate pretending game* with a facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks* and my life becomes a front. I tell you everything that's really nothing* and nothing of what's everything* of what's crying within me. So when I'm going through my routine do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying* what I'd like to be able to say* what for survival I need to say* but what I can't say. I don't like hiding. I don't like playing superficial phony games. I want to stop playing them. I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me but you've got to help me. You've got to hold out your hand even when that's the last thing I seem to want. Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead. Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you're kind* and gentle* and encouraging* each time you try to understand because you really care* my heart begins to grow wings-- very small wings* very feeble wings* but wings! With your power to touch me into feeling you can breathe life into me. I want you to know that. I want you to know how important you are to me* how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator-- of the person that is me if you choose to. You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble* you alone can remove my mask* you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic* from my lonely prison* if you choose to. Please choose to. Do not pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back. It's irrational* but despite what the books say about man often I am irrational. I fight against the very thing I cry out for. But I am told that love is stronger than strong 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. Who am I* you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet.
