Pieces

We all walk around in tatters, hiding behind our masks of perfection and grace, dignity and strength. We walk the hallways and the streets and the isles and the avenues, holding our heads high. I believe we all hold our heads high in fear. There is no confidence involved in this strong structure we hold our bodies to. We hold our heads high because we don't want a single person to believe that we are anything but "put together."
Would you like to know the truth?
Not a single one of us is "put together."
We remain masked so that no one will ask questions.
Questions force our brows to sweat and our hearts to pick up speed and we feel uncomfortable. Because the truth has never been a strong-point in the soul of a human being.

And then, without warning, someone comes along, begging for the truth.
And, somehow, they seem to be the only person to see the you as the millions of peices that you are and not the whole that you pretend to be.
And they ask questions.
And it startles you.
You've always walked along, being seen by everyone, yet noticed by no one. And that's the way you like it, for that's the way it's always been.
But it's those select people that come into your life that not only see you, but they notice you.

And it seems as though there is nothing more for you to do but tell them every detail of every shattered piece of yourself and beg them to simply stroke your hair and hold you in their arms.

God is a master artist of pointillism, and we each hold that grand title of "masterpiece."
He created us by using tiny, individual dots.
From far away, a clear picture is seen and understood.
But up close, you can see that we are made up of dots. Millions of dots, each one vital to our entirety.
Up close, each dot can be seen with clarity, and the full picture takes on an entirely new meaning.

Not often is it that others come so close as to see the individual dots.

But when they do, something happens:
You take on a whole new definition of yourself, and your high-head-holding is a little less of a lie than it was before.
They notice you because, like them, you're different. And in this differences, you're the same.
You match.

That's what I find to be so beautiful about the human race: our differences. Our dots.

And it's in the discovery of these dots that we realize that there is a great difference between being seen and being noticed.

All we want, behind the mask, is to be validated.
In receiving that validation from those who truly notice, we are a little less afraid of ourselves and a little more familiar with our own dots. The dots that God gave us. The dots that make us individually beautiful.


Thank the people who have noticed you.


-Mal