The Real Self

People never show you their real self. You may occasionally see a glimmer, a glimpse of the person behind the fake smile, but it's rare. In a way, people aren't fully real unless they're alone, and even then they often manage to hide reality from themselves. Once in a while, they'll look in the mirror and see who they really are. Sometimes they hate it, sometimes they don't. When they hate the image before them, they escape. Parties, friends, wild extravagance. Trying harder and harder to blot out the picture of the real them. but in the end, they can't. It's impossible. They never forget. Why? because for a brief moment, they saw the truth. They saw what they really were and it disgusted them. So they ran. To the world. The world told them many things. "Use music to banish your thoughts. Use people. Use money. Use booze. Use, use, use, take, take, take. Taking will make you better. It will make you forget."

But they can't.

Forever, the image of the their true self will haunt them. Sometimes they see it again, and like a delicately healed wound torn asunder, they will feel it afresh. And they will bleed. Try as they might, they can't heal it. They slap on bandaids the world continually hands them, listening to its soothing voice, "This one will make it better. This boy, this job, this school..." until they finally realize that bandaids won't make it better. Bandaids don't heal a wound. Healing comes from care.

But they don't know how to give the wound care. So they will bleed every time they see the truth of who they really are. Until someone shows they care, and tells them how to heal the wound.

Even though they won't show you their real self, it's there. Waiting.