I’m starting to learn that there isn’t a whole lot of room in the fabric of society for honest people. They’re embarrassed by it. They see an honest person as if she is standing buck-naked in the middle of the street and they avert their eyes. They even peek back and remark to each other. Some people will giggle and point, others will scoff and scorn. They’re all the same. They’re all afraid.

To be an unmasked person in a masked world, an openly blue-skinned person in a Silverstein poem, is sometimes quite freeing. But on those days when my skin isn’t quite as thick and when my honesty scares people away, I wonder why I am this way. Why don’t I put on the mask? Isn’t it what you all want? Wouldn’t I be safer that way?

I guess the problem is, I don’t know how.