I Am What I Make Up AKA Day Eleven

All of us are wearing masks

Constructed facades intended to

Present ourselves to others

Not as who we know we are, but

As the people we think we ought to be.

We create a mold and 

Pour ourselves into it, inhabiting all the grooves,

Hoping we can just fit in and gel,

Keep our skins from crumbling and 

Revealing the gooey ugliness underneath.

Some manage better than others

Those who are blessed with more

Emotional pectin will hold their

Shapes with ease, they will

Wobble and jiggle with the bumps of daily life, without

Fear of liquefaction, no risk of 

Revelation, their structures are so solid. The

Rest of us must be vigilant for our internal 

Selves never quite manage to grow hard, we must brace for

Potential missteps which may turn us into

Puddles of our pretenses, forcing us to start again.