Self Image


“I see myself wrapped in lies, which
do not seem to penetrate my soul, as if they are not really a part of me. They
are like costumes.” – Anais Nin

I abhor veils. They are the entity that
constricts us from truly “being.” I could dedicate the next twenty years of my
life to explaining this abomination but my immense detest and countless words
could never render veils useless. This, much like bacon, is one thing that most
will agree on for veils are not without their merits. In our human efforts to “be”
life has called on us to conceal bits and pieces of our beings for survival. We
conceal emotions, information, thoughts… We conceal Truth! I conceal more than I
would like to admit but however much I try, I can never conceal how I feel
about something/someone. I choose not to perceive this as a disability but a
choice born of free will. Regardless, I have found necessity in concealing the “why”
behind my feelings.

I want to be anonymous… To sever my words from my being. They are
a reflection of the purity I have failed to muster. I want you to read my
words, my stories: this chunk of my soul and not relate it to me. I want you to
what you know (or think you know) about me, and take the words as they are. My
words are everything, after all. I am giving everything, and I would like to
keep one piece for myself.
I want you to read about my pain and not delve
deeper to find out the hundred ways my heart can break. I want you to do this,
because I want to do this… To Forget! I want to be anonymous as I write. As I write about
the people my lips won’t forget… All of them, really. Because as much as I can’t
forget myself, I can’t forget them. How they have been too many. The ones I regret
where the kiss was premature, void of feeling or summoned by one too many
drinks. The ones I long for because they said and did everything right before
the kiss and the opposite after. Even the ones I never had for where my courage
failed, my imagination allowed my lips to remember what their kisses could have
been like. They are all anonymous to me, now, even when they remain my muse.
But most of all, I want to be anonymous
so that I don’t have to be that ten year old girl that is scared of everything.
To create my art without the blinding fear that robs me of greatness. Of the
ties that bind me to memories that still haunt me. I want to detach… I want to
be anonymous!

“We are
possessed by nobody, not even by ourselves.” – 
Graham Greene, The End of the Affair

Previous Post Next Post

You Might Also Like

No Comments

Leave a Reply