RANSVESTIA

But, such a glance is precisely my salvation.

My only salvation.

And I know it.

That is if it is followed by acceptance, if it is followed by love. It's the only thing that can liberate me, from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.

It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself, that I'm really worth something.

But I don't tell you this.

I don't dare.

I'm afraid to.

I'm afraid that your glance will not be followed by acceptance. I'm afraid that your glance will not be followed by love.

I'm afraid that you will think less of me, that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.

I'm afraid that deep down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good, and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, with a facade of assurance without, and a

trembling child within.

And so begins the parade of masks, the glittering but empty parade of masks.

And my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.

I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me.

So, when I'm going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I'm saying.

And what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say, But, what I can't say.

Honestly,

I dislike the superficial, phony game.

I'd really like to be genuine and spontaneous, and me.

But, you've got to help me.

You've got to hold out your hand even when that's the last thing I seem to want, or need.

Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead.

Only you can call me into aliveness.

Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging, each time you

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