Naïvety

NOTE: This is something that I wrote some time ago as sort of a poetic rant. Here seemed like a good place to share it.

It is the gentlest of us, the kindest, the most naïve, the generous, those with the best of intentions, who end up battered and bruised. We are the compassionate ones; the empathic. We look at the world around us and attempt to filter out the negativity. We strive to see the good in everyone, the silver lining to every situation. We walk around in a constant state of optimism, always quick with a smile for each stranger we pass in the street, and to step lively to open a door for an elder. 

Suspicion is not something that comes naturally to us. It takes several incidents for us to even begin to bring our guard up. And so we don't notice the deception, we never see it coming. We wake up one day and look around and wonder how we could have been so blind, so trusting, so oblivious. And we attempt to rebuild the shambles of our lives, weaving together the shards of our psyche with stray wisps of sanity. And suddenly we find ourselves hiding behind layers of masks, our former selves peering hesitantly around the edges. And so we bear the scars of Humanity and slough off the dead tissue to reveal new skin with the shedding of each mask.  

But eventually, let the last of them fall away again; we have to. The day we stop having Faith in Humanity will be the day we climb upon the funeral pyre.