Blue.

I don’t know how to be anyone but who I’ve pretended to be. What if she’s not even me? How is it that lying is easier than the truth?

You know how it’s said that the truth will set you free?

They never said the implied.

Deception will trap you. Trap isn’t a strong enough word. It will ensnare you. It will shut, lock you in. It will make you it’s slave. I have somehow, amazingly conditioned myself to not give a single thing away when I’m lying. To not give away any emotion without my full consent to do so. Shock isn’t betrayed on my face unless I want the person I’m talking to to know I’m shocked. I have learned to wear a mask so realistic it isn’t questioned. I have learned to be indifferent when everything inside me is screaming.

And that is terrifying.

On one hand, I could make an excellent spy and am still blatantly confused as to why I have not been contacted by the CIA or FBI or The Lightman Group to harness my natural abilities.

On the other hand, how useful are these ‘skills’ if I can’t control them? If they control me?

It’s not that I live a lie. I am truly the person most people see. But it’s like the tip of the iceberg. There is so much that has shaped me, that has defined who I am, that is miles and miles below the surface. And… I can’t bring it to the surface. I tried today. I tried to talk myself into it.

What are you so afraid of? I asked myself over and over.

And I had no real answer. When I’m asking myself that again now, I feel…. surrounded by something. I’m stuck. There’s something inside of me. Metal jaws. Two doors intricately intertwined, never meant to be broken.

It’s like I’m a mime; there’s this invisible box around me and I try to bang on the walls and it doesn’t even make a sound. The walls don’t shake. And I’m just here in the enclosure with nothing but my spinning thoughts. And goodness, how they spin. I’m dizzy trying to think straight.

How have the defenses I’ve built up become so strong that even I can’t break them?

I’ve said the words before. How can I not say them now?

I painted over my blue skin

I trained myself to be green

Then I snuck into the forest

And did my best to not be seen

I met other green people

Others yellow, red, even blue

At night, I painted on a new coat

I didn’t know what else to do

I got used to being green

I learned to fit in my new skin

Every once and a while, I wonder…

What would it be like to be blue again?

-Melissa

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