Mason

 I often overlook my shortcomings. I discredit their relevance and deny their existence, not because I am deluded or narcissistic. I'd say they are part of my being at the moment. These are terms synonymous with my very definition, I have become desensitized to all of them. Some days I'm disgusted by myself, it is almost as if I was wired to loathe and love myself all at once. I live in a world where it's weird to admit that you fall short. A world where being a realist is tied to being pessimistic. Nobody wants to look at the other side of the coin let alone flip it. I have been made to believe that if I'm not positive then there's something wrong with me ,seen people ostracized mainly because their perspective was realistic. We hate sense, we hate transparency. We adorn glasses with lens of delusion in the name of hope. Out of touch with the world, because everyone is trying to be a main character instead of a complete one. Nobody wants to let anyone in because they live a façade and won't admit it to themselves. Nobody wants to look within because they are scared of what they may see. Scared that they will look into a mirror too keenly and slowly start to spot flaws, little dings and scratches in the paint that are normally overlooked by a passing glance. I dislike vulnerability and hate exposition. Assessment often reveals cracks in a wall we strived so hard to build. It's almost perfect looking from the outside looking in, but from inside I see them. Maybe that's why I am so afraid of letting people in, I do not want you to see these cracks because I feel like you will pick at them and my wall will crumble. Everything my flawed wall protected me against will now be free to tear me to shreds. I will be forced to pick myself up, piece by bloody piece and try to be the same again. Problem is even in my attempted regeneration I will still be speared by claims of selfishness because I'm trying to rebuild instead of settling in the rubble. I will be called a hypocrite because I'd rather devote time to my problems instead of others'. I will be slandered because I wouldn't help you limp when I couldn't even walk. You will still want me to meet your expectations of me when I can't even meet the ones I set for myself. You will want my battered legs to run with yours, a feat I cannot achieve. My wall serves a purpose, not to keep you away but to shield me from your interference and expectation. A wall that allows me to be truest to myself within the confines of my own space