The Perfection Within

There is this thing inside of me. She takes things from me. She’ll steal them: words from behind my lips, tears from behind my eyes. She hides them, keeping them all to herself, never to let any of it hit the surface. Insecurities are hidden deep in the blackness. Truthful words are grabbed and replaced with kinder, fake ones. Any conversation that would escape between my teeth and cause an uproar, suppressed in her arms.

She will not let anything less than perfect show. Not to my family, not to my friends. Especially not to strangers. Anything that would not please the other person in the room. She hides all the mess inside of me. She takes that mess and stomps on it, never letting it float up.

With the naked eye, you’d never see her. You’d only see the flawless person she allows you to see, with the inviting smile and warm gleam in my eyes. The person that is the advice giver, but no one is around when I need to receive some. The one who everyone loves, but no one really knows. The one who has it all together. The perfect girl.

No one will see the shattered heart that was never fully taped back together. No one will see that although I act like I have it all figured out, she has taken the fact that I don’t. So instead, she makes me feel as though I should, and so the world sees that I do.  She has taken so much from me that I don’t even know who I would be without her.

No, with just the naked eye, she will never be seen. She and her belongings live in the darkness, only to continue her purpose behind the scenes. You’d need more than a microscope to see her, let alone all the shit she has buried. And just when you think that her octopus arms could no longer hold anything, she swipes the single tear that almost escaped those perfectly warm eyes.

She forces a smile onto my flawless face to keep hidden everything that she holds so near and dear in the abyss.