I wasn't sure where I have to post it. But you can post here beautiful, heart-moving stories....

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear.
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I'm afraid to take off, and non of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled
For God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness is my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command, and that I need no one.
But don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface is a mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion and fear and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.

I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear of being exposed.
That's why i frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend , to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation. My only hope and i know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate my from myself,
that I am really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance, will not be followed by love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good,
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without and trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.

I don't like to hide.
I don't like to place superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me, but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings,
very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings!
With your power to touch my into feeling you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator--a honest-to-God creator--
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic and uncertainty,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to. Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.

A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man, often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong alls, and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down these walls with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.

by Charles C. Finn

That's the best poem-like writing i've ever read. But that might be because it's very similar to the thoughts that went around in my head during my whole upbringing. Thanks for posting that!

Here is another nice story, too.



"Listen! I am sick and tired of being ignored day after day. You go to work, out with your friends, to sleep, to eat, live your life as if I do not exist. Every once in a while you notice me when you are depressed or home sick in bed. But do you really care about me? Do you really ask what I want?

Here I am sitting around waiting, forever waiting for you to recognize me. First your parents began ignoring parts of me and gradually you continued where your parents left off.

Remember me? I am your feelings, your dreams and fantasies. I am the one who used to enjoy going to the park. I am the one who likes pizza, candy, mountains, sunshine, and who wants to play. I am also the one who likes to be held and told that I am loved. I am the child within you, I am you.

I don't care if you are an adult now. Why does that mean you have to forget about me? Why can't adults enjoy themselves as children do? Why must being an adult mean that the child in you must try not to exist?

Where am I supposed to go when I am angry and you don't recognize me? Then you wonder why you have indigestion or weight problems.

Where do you think your problems come from?

I know you need your important friends. I know you have to make a living. I know you have to take care of others. But have you ever thought if you really became my friend, you wouldn't need some things from others so much?

Have you ever thought that if you take care of your feelings and appreciated your little desires that you would not need so much income to appease me? Have you ever thought that if you were nicer to yourself, taking care of others would not be so much of a burden?

I know you are attempting to get a better position so you will have more time to be with me. I have felt the different therapies you have tried which reintroduced you to parts of me. But I want you to know all of me. I am tired of others pushing and shoving, fishing around for me. I want you to know me.

I don't expect you to change overnight. I have been waiting for you to recognize me long enough. To be honest, a part of me will never understand how you can treat me the way you do. Why is it so difficult for you to be as you want?

If I was literally your child, you would listen to me and care how I am. Well, I am literally your child, you have just learned not to see me."

From "The Magical Child Within You"

Wow, i think that's even better! Hehe. Scary-accurate stuff. I've been trying to tell people similar things when i used to work as a humanitarian in other communities. People really need to be re-taught that we're all really a part of nature and that we have to let ourselves live more natural lives, which includes allowing ourselves to be who we really are.

You've got a new fan, Mikan! =D

I'm a little boy stuck inside a man's body.
I wonder how those around me got to be so old.
They are all adults who are raising children,
Or worse have raised children,
Or worse are raising grand-children,
How did they get to be so old?

I'm a little boy stuck inside a man's body.
My hair is graying, my body's aching.
My back refuses to lift heavy items.
My arms complain when I use them.
My feet are no longer swift.
How did my body get to be so old?

I'm a little boy stuck inside a man's body.
I still play with little ones and try to have fun,
But I get tired and must rest while they still go.
Yet, I'm the one they desire to chase;
I'm the one who's expected to be better and faster, but I'm not.
How did I get to be so slow?

I'm a little boy stuck inside a man's body.
I'd rather have fun than responsibilities.
I'm amazed at the things expected of me now.
I still think those around me are much more wise,
And yet I'm surprised when they ask me advice.
How do people miss seeing the boy I am?

Author Unknown