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I hide.

I hide.

I hide because it feels safer than being seen.

Because I haven’t fully matured past a stage in my life when I was truly dependent on others. When their opinions of me made the difference between being a good boy who was rewarded and praised, or a bad boy who was restricted and punished.

The world only sees a fraction of the beauty I can offer, because I have mistaken my beauty for badness.

I hide because I’m afraid if I show you my beauty, you will confirm that I’m bad.

The hope that I’ve continually bet my future on is that I can somehow figure myself out, fix whatever is broken inside me, and finally be worthy of being here… just the way I am.

But now…

I share.

I share because there’s music inside of me that wants to be played.

Because the act of preserving the innocence of this beautiful little boy inside me has become synonymous with squelching him. And I don’t want to die with my music still on mute.


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