Oh, you know me?

I seem perfectly composed. You hear my laughter, you can even sense my radiating joy. You tell me to slow down, I'm way too hyper. People around me laugh at me and with me. I don't seem to have a care in the world, at least, none significant enough to leave lasting scars.

You might even admire my exuberance. My seeming detachment, my efficiency, my skill in emotional adjustment.

What you don't see is as equal a part of me as what you see.

There are times when blazing words get caught between my constricted throat and clenched jaws, and holding them back requires back-breaking effort.

There are times when I am overwhelmed with despair, helplessness and frustration.

There are times when words sound empty and inadequate.

These are times when the tears surface. Those tiny drops of humanity, the ones I often keep back in order to maintain a perfect composure. Hugging myself and rocking myself to sleep only keeps the tears in. As much as I don't want to admit it, I do need someone to hold me and assure me that everything's going to be okay. Someone who knows me well enough to be a comforting presence.

Then I would, for once, cry my heart out.

[Written in 2007 - never published, kept as a draft in my blog]

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully around with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness...The only place outside heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers...of love is hell."

- C.S. Lewis -