unwilling to be seen
I stand here before you with the stated purpose of performing for you, competing against the others for your attention, and hoping that you will think I am good enough to be chosen.
But I do not want you to see me.
Or hear me, for that matter.
I do not want you to hear the real me.
The broken me. The not enough me. The imperfect and imposter me.
I only want you to see the curated and perfected version of me.
The version of me that I want you to see.
But it is so hard to keep that brittle and shiny version of me up to the task.
So very often I smash right in front of you. Crumble and shatter.