Opening Up

     I used to believe that "naked" was what you were when you showered, bathed, changed clothes, had sex. I used to think that I was naked regularly, that everyone was. When I was fourteen, I decided that in a perfect world, we would all be naked, crouched under the bleeding heat of an untouchable Sun, filling our dry mouths with dust as we cursed dumbly at the unchanging orb; eating dirt, hissing at the sky. I once believed that you could shed your cotton and polyester skins to assume the garb of creation and become "naked."
     I have learned, however, that nakedness is more than can be beheld by the human eye. Nakedness entails  vulnerability, helplessness. Perhaps those of us who are willing to admit our weaknesses are the most naked. Regardless, there are some things that cannot be hidden by clothes, or makeup, masks, sheets, walls. It is as if every person is possessed by some carnal weakness that forces us to drive expensive cars and wear designer clothing. And yet we are naked. We cannot protect ourselves from the harshness of reality, but instead we strive to protect ourselves from the threat of nakedness. We find ourselves cold, desperate, alone, and ugly, and thus toil to clothe ourselves. We are cold, so we struggle for warmth. We are desperate, so we work until we have excess. We are alone, so we search for love. We are ugly, so we wear masks and makeup; we trade faces and alter appearances.
   
     What are we trying to hide?
   
     The truth is that this question can be answered. One piece at a time, we can put together what will amount to the insecurities of mankind, and although it may be impossible to overcome them, it will at least be easier to face them directly. There are many stories to be told herein, and if I find I am not alone, I will share them in a way that is pleasing to the reader. Until then, I convey my anonymous affection and most humble gratitude.