Not to trip on this trip

It is a tricky one, this desire to be vulnerable. Sometimes. Somewhere. In front of someone. At least. The desire to fall -- knowing that it is okay, after all, just this once, just here and now, to fall. It's easy to understand the potent attraction of success, but this attraction of failure is none short of lethal. It's logical to want to know, but there is some rationale behind wanting to be told that is probably beyond the understanding of rationality. I don't know.

What I know is that staying at the top is a persistently painful, tiring and numbing process. So you fall in the trap of bleeding just to know you're alive. You might, that is. Perhaps it is the overwhelming stability that confidence demands. Perhaps mere insecurity. Or else a glitch in The Matrix, which makes you come to a random moment, when you forget your painstaking efforts of building the shell within which you hide and all the rationale that goes into creating your smiling, powerful, confident, resilient wall every single other moment, and give it all up. For that random moment. It's baffling, this desire to be unabashedly naked. And knowing you could survive, you could be saved.

But it may not happen that way, not always. One could have chosen the wrong moment, the wrong person, the wrong purpose. And as it backfires and you lose your poise and your purpose forever, you sit and wonder, if being vulnerable is a sign of being human, why is being human a quality banned on Show-and-Tell?

Run. Hide. Save. Yourself.