And so she found herself talking to him in her head, telling him stories from her life and how they impacted her way of thinking, her personality. So he would see her. Really SEE her. And love the REAL her. Not some mystery version he created in his head. In reality though, the more she shared, the less interested he became. There was no longer an air of mystery about her. Nothing more to explore and win over. We don't want people to sit naked in front of us all day. We want them to wear pretty clothes that mask their flaws.
We want room for adding our own lies to someone's personality.
And so she knew she had lost him. Sure he gave a polite nod, an appropriate remark here and there. But no statement of real depth, of understanding. He was too lost in his own vanity to care. This is a world of pretty things. Bare ugly nakedness had no place here. You either put on your mask and join the herd or get left behind. So many of us have chosen to be good looking manufactured book covers with empty pages because our real pages with scrawly handwriting are torn and tattered and hidden away somewhere.
