Exposé

They tell you to just be yourself, that everybody else is already taken. As if you have been out shopping all day, strolling past empty aisles full of empty shelves, searching for the personality you can wear as your costume for the day. Until you finally realise that they’ve sold out of costumes long ago and it looks like you’ll have to go naked after all.

We’ve sold out, they tell you. Our masks went especially fast, but we are hoping to get another shipment in tomorrow if you are still interested.

And you tell them that, “No, I don’t think so” and that what you really need is some clothes to wrap yourself in so that you don’t have to go around so exposed.

Well maybe you should try the second-hand shop down the road, they suggest.

But when you try on their costumes, nothing quite seems to fit you. It’s all a little too loose in the arms and a bit too tight at the waist and my oh my those pants are just a tad too long for you, but if you roll them up I doubt anybody will notice. So you leave feeling a bit ridiculous in your shoes that are several sizes too large and a hat that falls down over your eyes, but at least you feel like you can finally fit in with this costume parade.

When did you become so afraid that you had to hide yourself away in baggy clothes just so others would have to guess what truly stands beneath? This outer costume that you have donned is not a part of you, or have you forgotten this already?

Methinks tis nobler to live in this world naked, as you were when you entered it. And to die of exposure would be a very noble death indeed.

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