We’ve all got little quirks — the kinks no amount of ironing can straighten, the little knots that no amount of brushing can smooth. Sometimes, we try to keep them to ourselves, because not everyone can understand the illogical reason behind a 3am meltdown triggered by the lack of ice cream or the days you spend lying in bed because life is a little too difficult to go through during the endless summer days. They are the parts of ourselves we hide behind leave-in conditioner, chiming laughter and perfectly manicured fingernails. They are the parts we believe nobody will love if they happened to open your bedroom door during a relapse.
I wish I could tell you that kitsch is appreciated. That for every weird habit or unreasonable phobia, there’s someone that will smooth your hair and say, “It’s ok, I love you just the way you are”, or hold your hand and walk you through the breakdowns, the snot, the tears and the unexplainable lonely days. But perhaps dreams don’t really come true that way.
Truth is, nobody wants to see the real you. The bloody mangled mess with tears pouring down your used-to-be perfectly mascara-ed face? That one’s reserved for solitary hours in your bathroom where you crumble to the floor trying to hide the sounds of your sobs. All the world wants is the beautifully damaged, the perfectly cracked. Parents divorced? Anorexia? Suicidal? They’re all acceptable only if you still manage to pull your flawless form to a dinner table and discuss the topic of your distress while clinking cocktail glasses and pushing olives around your dinner plate.
No one will love you for who you really are. They love you when your broken pieces are shrink wrapped into place and you’re one good piece of China on display. They love you when you’re stitched, sewn and bounded together. They only love you when you’re not falling apart. They only love you when you can fix yourself. So raise those glasses and put on your masks. Life is made easier when some secrets are kept they way they should be — unseen by others.