Am I alone in thinking that it is increasingly easier to be misconstrued in the molevelant half light of modern life? I’m not outgoing, I am not a creature that craves a spotlight but I hide behind a mask and in certain situations I can pop my head out of my shell, blinking and smiling in the glare of the shady light.
Some people can make me forget myself. Even in a crowd. I’ll reveal that side of me that is open, that is the inside, a place often cramped and dark and hot. A safe but anguished place. I catch myself though.
I wear my mask well, at least most of the time. But I wonder, do people see me through the mask, do they see the act or the actor? Do they think me strange, do they think me the optimum of a plain, simple, colorless object?
What am I really trying to convey and do the cracks that weave across the aloof facade open enough to let my nervous soul leak through?