We want the reward of being loved, but must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known
|I feel like an old castle|
Picture perfect on the outside, just enough ivy and
crumbling to be beautiful.
Everyone looks and says
"Wow, isn't she mature,
Scared to let someone in and see the mess inside the walls and want to clean,
or feel like they have to clean.
Scared to let someone know that I'm much more
broken and moldy that people think.
I want to be seen, I want to be known
I want the sun to shine on all the filthy spots and hidden mold,
I want someone to know and care and help.
I want to ask someone in, to help me
clear away the dust
of inviting someone.
I don't want to trouble you, don't want you
don't want you feeling like
you're obligated to help.
I don't want you to see the mess and think
"Wow, who is this girl?
I don't know her I've never
met this you before."
I've always been me, I'm
You just don't know everything.
I'm still me.
Every smile and hug and inside joke,
laugh and cry and secret hurt
it's all real
it happened and
it's valid and
I don't want someone to see this mold and think
"What else has she been hiding who
has she been underneath this all along?"
I'm not a different person, and
this dust doesn't change the me you know.
My broken stairs and grime
the me you've always known.
I just need a little help,
need to share with someone, need to
slowly take your hand and show you
that I'm struggling.
I just want someone to venture in and see
that I need help
that I desperately want someone to
look at me and
care enough to
a little at a time
a smile, a tear, a touch
a little at a time
to hug, to pray support, and
love and show me that I matter,
and that I don't need to be afraid of
staying here forever.
Someone who will come in knowing
exactly what their getting into and
choosing to walk in
But I don't want to ask.
I won't burden you, won't force you into helping me clean up.
I won't share, won't open up and
give you hints that
all is not
You'll walk in, you'll think your broom and mop will
do a perfect job of
cleaning up my mess.
You'll walk in, you'll think you know
what to do and
how to help,
and you will stop in shock.
Because nobody knows.
Nobody knows exactly what is happening or
which walls have fallen and
they aren't prepared to
love me anyway.
And we were made to share and love and
bear each others' burdens,
but I don't need a cleaning crew to come in and refurnish.
You'll walk in,
and you'll be shocked.
You'll know that it's beyond you and you'll
bravely go and get some help and yet
I don't want
I don't need to have the mold all
Cleared away, as fast as possible,
I don't need you to fix the stairs entirely on your own
I just need
I just want someone to know that I fall,
that all the outside stones aren't
perfectly crumbled enough to be
pretty and good.
I just need a person to
hold me and know when I
cry and struggle and
pray for me when I fall down, I just
someone to know.
But you don't.
And I won't ask,
my drawbridge paint too bright to see
the shadows from inside.
My windows tinted
lovely shades of pink and green and gold,
and people who just look and smile who
never see my hand
for maybe someone
who looks and really sees
that all I really want is just a best friend.
"See the pretty castle?"
And I smile and wave and play the part
and watch them walk away.
And I'll quietly wait and hide and crack
alone inside the sunkissed stones,
wishing for a smile and a hand.
But I'm fine at least
I smile and pretend
that nothings wrong.
And I'm sure one day I'll make it, so
I'll cling and wait and crack,
sitting pretty on my perfect patch of grass.
Unwilling to communicate
unable to say
anything that matters at all, even how
I'm at a loss for words
exactly how I feel.
So you smile, you peer, you pry,
but I can't let you in
I wish that I could let you in but
I can't let you see inside
I smile and shake my head and wish
that I could tell you everything.
"I'm fine. Just
a little tired."
And you nod and talk and think
that nothings wrong.
And I yearn inside and long to let you know,
to catch a glimpse of what is going on and
know just how I feel
but I keep it closed and
wish that you could see.
I barricade myself and build the walls
so high and strong
and wish that I could tear them down
and let the drawbridge fall
but I can't.
Even though I'm hurting I can't
ask for help and make someone else
bear my pain and guilt.
isn't the glass so pretty?"