Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

A fragment of myself is all I can show the world. Many think it’s me, happy go lucky, always smiling, beaming like the brightest star. It is only a fragment they see.

My whole self is a myriad of fragmented pieces, put together loosely. It’s an ill-fitting suit but the only one I have. This world is unsafe for people like me. My most intimate parts and my darkness hides behind a fragment of sunshine.

I have shown some of these fragments but always, always am told how disgusting, how unbecoming, how ugly they are. I tuck them back into the spaces I removed them from, but they don’t fit exactly the same. Somehow by exposing them to another and feeling the rejection, the fragments become misshapened. I reach within myself and pull out the one everyone likes, the fragment everyone appreciates.

It gets tired sometimes, always being the light, the cloak that renders all the other fragmented pieces of me invisible. It is the piece I must care for the most. I give it rest during the night while allowing the others to wander and howl and scream and cry, while that piece sleeps peacefully.

It puts on a good show when the curtain pulls back. It is there, beaming, a red, red rose between its teeth. “Oh I love you. I love you. Thank you. Thank you,” it says to its audience as it bows. A great performer, no one could know what hides behind that beaming light. Have you ever tried to see past the sun? It is a task no one can do, not without the aid of sunglasses or transition lenses.