Do you see me?

You're looking at me, but can you really see me? Do you see past my wall of insecurities?

A dull facial expression. An equally dull tone, accompanied by stuttering. Few words spoken and a gaze not met. You see the crimson patches of heat amongst my skin, and the twitches and shifts of discomfort.

Can you see past these behaviours so hated by me? Don't you see the girl within, screaming to be let free?

I wrote this at a time that I felt as though people saw me solely as a shy person, rather than someone that was shy. They only knew me for the person I pretended to be.

I used to imagine painting this image of a girl with an X-ray view of her heart. And in this inside view of her heart, I pictured a smaller version of the same girl trapped within a jail cell. That's how I felt. I felt like my soul was trapped in this shell of the person I was trying to be. A person that met other people's expectations.

Imagining this painting, I waited desperately for someone to come to my rescue. As if my peers could develop X-ray vision and see through my facade. It was after exploring this idea that I was a prisoner in my own body that I realized that I was the one to have unknowingly placed myself in that position, and thus I was the only person who could devise my escape. That didn't mean I couldn't use help. There were many ways others could encourage me through my journey, but ultimately I was always the one who held the key.

A prisoner.

Cold and alone, I feel in this cell. Restraints; I am not free to do as I please.

I am a prisoner, trapped in my own body.

None can hear my screams of plea. You are looking my way, but do you see me? Can you see past my walls of insecurities? Can't you see the girl within screaming to be set free?

Too much pride to ask. Still I desperately wait for your help. But how can anyone help me, when I have condemned myself? I have placed myself in this position, and I am the only one who can set myself free. I know that now. But I remain trapped.

As much as I hate this cell I've create. The fear of leaving is enough to force me to stay. Key in hand, I don't approach the lock. You must think me a fool. Please understand that it is not lack of effort, but rather the constant presence of self-doubt.

I take a step forward, but safety pulls me back. While you speak to the mask, the cell protects my true self. You cannot dislike me if you do not truly know me. With this mask, you cannot see me break inside. You cannot see the tears that I refrain from setting free.

True emotions, dreams and fears hidden. I thought myself safe from judgement. I thought the small truth that escaped the mask was enough. It is not. You deserve better... I deserve better.

Held back tears may save me from sharing my vulnerability, but eventually it becomes too much to care for alone. There comes a time when there is no more room for held back tears. I feel like I'm drowning. Drowning in self-created misery. But still I am afraid to save myself, for it is easier to continue to cause myself pain, then to get you involved. I need not cause you the same pain I cause myself.

Slowly, I am struck by realization. The measures put in place to protect me are those hurting me most. Safe from the outside world perhaps but the cell is flawed. For it has forgotten to protect me from my greatest enemy; Myself.

How can I begin to trust you? When I cannot even trust myself? For so long, I've listened to this person. Listened to the negative judgement and insults, thinking this way of thinking normal. I even came to believe them.

Through time, those who have stuck around despite the mask have taught me that these thoughts must be repelled.

I used to consider the love I had for myself as a selfish kind. I did not like the person I was, but I had enough self-love to wish for good things for myself. Love is not selfish. Self-love is healthy. At times, a necessity. I understand that this is what I must achieve to finally be free. But as many things, its achievement is much easier said than done.

I am working on it. But this is not something that can be achieved over night. Please be patient. I beg you not to get bored of the mask. There is much more to me, if only you take the time to discover it.

Do not take my insecurities personally. I may not yet deem myself worthy, but I do wish to keep your company. Someday you will get to meet me without the mask. Slowly, I am venturing out of my cell, without it.

Forgive me if I return to this hatred comfort zone. Old habits do not vanish easily, but eventually they will. Eventually, these hurtful words will be replaced with positive thoughts. Like a lighthouse guiding me away from dangerous waters, the faith of those I love shall guide me. Those special people whom help put to light the best in me, I hold dearly in my heart. Your words of encouragement have truly made a difference. But in the likely chance that someday you tire of my slow blossoming, I know that I must be able to count on myself.

Someday, I will view myself as enough. I have seen the beauty that lies outside the cell. I am deserving of seeing the world without the mask's filter. No matter how much time and effort it takes; I promise you. I promise myself. That someday soon I will be free. Someday soon, the cell will cease to hold power over me. And I will no longer be a prisoner in my own body.

For a long time, I thought of the cell as my zone of comfort. It was meant to be my safe place. To shelter my vulnerable parts from harm. But all it did was limit me in the worst ways possible. There's no room for growth in harsh environments of the such. Maybe I was mostly safe from judgement from my peers because I was presenting nothing to judge, but I isolated myself in the most judgemental place: my head. No one could have hurt me more than I was hurting myself. And that realization shook me. I had prided myself for so long for my kindness and open-mindness. I gave so much of those qualities to others, but kept none for myself.

The day I learned to show myself kindness was the day I took the first step towards loving myself. Being kind meant forgiving and learning from my mistakes. Being kind meant learning to see the good in what I deemed bad qualities. Being kind meant giving myself the leeway to explore my passions and desires. Being kind meant pushing myself out of my comfort zone. Being kind meant forcing myself back to my feet when I tumbled into old habits.

This worlds needs more kindness. Be charitable. Be forgiving and open-minded. Help others in any way you can. But please don't forget to help yourself. Don't forget to fulfill your own needs. You cannot serve people from an empty well.