Yesterday I was frustrated and on the precipice of a heart-wrenching and conflicting realization. I desperately wanted to burst open and pour out all my thoughts, feelings and anxieties but I resisted. I resisted even in the presence of someone with no personal connection to my past or present circumstances or any personal bias. I resisted because I was afraid that someone would finally see me for who I really am rather than the mask I flash before them. Someone could unearth the interred remains of an identity I desperately tried to suppress and stifle ages long ago. For what more terrifying monsters lie in wait for us than the visage of our most repulsive and impulsive selves? Am I subhuman? A monster? Selfish? Greedy? Lusty? Unabashed? Impetuous? Immoral? Deceptive?
Later, I began an uncomfortable conversation with myself in hopes of alleviating some of the internal strife only to unravel further the tangled, mangled mess and catch fleeting glimpses of a new identity with complex and apparently contradictory beliefs and values. Who am I? Who have I become? Why do I continue to resist knowing full well the repercussions of isolation?