But I’m a Creep

Press Play:

Have you ever seen an actor fuck up onstage?  It’s everyones worst fear.  (What if I trip?  What if  – God forbid – I forget my lines?  What if…?)  So, when we see it happen we cringe.  And despite our horror, we singe with a little bit of pleasure that we witnessed someone else’s tragedy.  Thankfully, it wasn’t ours.

What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here

We are all Pretenders.  The thing is, we are so good at it that we even believe ourselves. We play dress up with our lives.  Like children, we make believe.  We pretend we are are big.  That we know what we are doing. That we are all grown up – and loving it.

I wish I was special

Yet, every once in a while the spotlight dims, the audience becomes apparent, and we can see that the audience is really us – and everyone who believes in us, relies on us, and trusts that we are who we say we are.

Even if it hurts
I want to have control

So, why the need to pretend?  What are we afraid will happen if we actually take off our costume, strip down to our skin… and introduce ourselves?  The question is: If I wasn’t pretending, who would I be?

I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo

If you really wanted to see yourself whose eyes would you look through?  Who knows You? Knows are beautiful, and special, and worthy of love?

 I want you to notice when I’m not around

Whose eyes would you want to avoid?

When you were here before, Couldn’t look you in the eye.

When the curtain goes down after the final bow, and you are sniffing those well-earned flowers dressed as accolades, your make up must come off, my friend.  And yet…

Your skin makes me cry

with naked love,  jrb

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