I have 6 faces. 6 sides of me. Someone sees every side of my, except one. I've named her Melissa, a secret. MY secret. No one knows she exists. I keep her well hidden, she's invisible to everyone. All the other sides are perfect; the perfect friend, perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect dancer, perfectly perfect. But that's not me, it's never been me. Melissa is me, my heart, my core. I carry a rick filled back-pack filled with five flawless, gorgeous masks. And it's a good thing those masks are pretty, for Melissa is ugly. She has cuts on every inch of her body, tattoos on her arms and piercings where they shouldn't be. It can be assumed that to cover Melissa, a gorgeous mess, the masks are heavy, they're concrete. But concrete cracks with time and pressure. and you. You noticed the crack in the heaviest mask and tore it open. Melissa feels exposed, ashamed. She has never been noticed or looked at and you saw her, all of her. You looked at her with that sad, stupid smile. You used your gentle hands to close the piercings, erase the tattoos and heal the cuts that once sliced over her flawless face. But now that's back and Melissa can become free of all her imperfections, ready to start anew. No tattoos, no scars, no mask... just Melissa. Someone perfectly wonderful within them-self.
April 18, 2011