Addicted. Insecure.

Lonely. Boring.

My curtain hides me

keeps me from being hurt again.

It hides how lonely I am

How much I crave touch

But I'm too afraid to reach out for it.

Afraid my heart will be broken.

Again.

Afraid to receive confirmation that I’m not good enough.

Afraid of rejection.

Afraid that my craving for touch

Will lead to me being pushy

Or overly familiar

And thus scaring others away.

I'm afraid of their disgust

If they ever found out about my masturbation addiction.

Afraid of the looks of scorn if they knew I'd been unchaste.

I let others see my love of being a teacher

But I'm afraid of them knowing

Of my past molestation.

Afraid that will make them think

That I might one day change

From victim to perpetrator.

So it’s swept behind the curtain.

I let people see that I lose myself in books.

What I hide is that even I find myself boring.

Why wouldn’t everyone else?

So I imagine a more exciting life.

I immerse myself

In the life of the characters

And think about what I would do in their place.

Behind my curtain, I feel hollow.

I show the world someone with drive,

With ambition.

Someone who has plans.

But I am pessimistic,

I expect all my plans to fall apart.

Behind the curtain, I am in pieces.

My curtain shows others I’m whole.