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  Stephen R. Covey著《高效能家庭的七个习惯》中匿名者的电邮。

人们的内心非常软弱,非常容易受伤。

不要被我欺骗。不要被我所戴的假面欺骗。因为我带着假面。我带着一千层假面--我不敢摘掉它们--它们都不是我。伪装是一门艺术,也是我的第二天性,但是,不要被欺骗。

人们觉得我无忧无虑--从内到外都活泼开朗,四平八稳;自信是我的名字,冷静是我的消遣;沉静如水,一切尽在掌握,不需要任何人。但是,不要相信,请不要相信。

我的外表看似平和,但外表只是我的假面--我始终在变化、始终在掩饰的假面。下面不存在骄矜、冷静或自满。那里存在着真正的我--混乱不堪、忧虑重重、孤独难耐。但我吧它们藏了起来;我不想让任何人知道。只要想到我的弱点会被别人发现,我就会惊恐不安。正因为如此,我才疯狂地制造一个掩藏自己的假面。那是一个帮助我伪装的外表,冷漠,世故,让我躲避了洞察一切的目光。但是,这样的目光恰恰是对我的救助--我唯一的救助。我知道。只有它能使我摆脱自我,摆脱自己修筑的狱墙,摆脱我如此苦心树立的屏障。但是,我不会告诉你这些。我不敢,我害怕。

我怕紧随你目光而来的不是爱和包容。我怕你会把我看低,怕你会嘲笑我,怕你的嘲笑会要我的命。我怕自己在骨子里一钱不值,一无是处,而你会发现这一点,并且厌弃我。所以,我玩起了自己的游戏--我拼死伪装的游戏,外表自信,而内心却是个战栗的孩。假面游戏就是这样开始的,绚丽夺目但空无一物的假面游戏。我的生活成了装模作样。

我用肤浅谈话的温和语调与你闲散的聊天。我告诉了你一切,但它们实际上空无一物--与我内心的呐喊毫不相干。所以,在我执行程序时,不要被我的话语所欺骗。请你仔细倾听,试着听到我没有说出的话语......为了生存我需要说出、但又不能说出的话语。我不喜欢藏匿。说实话,我真的不喜欢藏匿。我不喜欢这种欺骗性和表面化的游戏。我确实希望变得真诚。­

我确实希望自己变得真诚、自然、本色;但你必须帮助我。你必须帮助我--伸出你的双手,即使我看似根本不需要它。每当你出于真切的关心而努力理解我,我心灵的翅膀就会开始生长,尽管非常幼小和软弱,但它们毕竟是翅膀。由于你的敏感和体谅,由于你的理解力,我能够做到。你能为我注入生机,但这对你而言并不容易。长期以来深信自己毫无价值,我以修筑起坚固的墙壁,但是,爱的力量远远胜过了坚固的墙壁,我的希望也就寄托在这里。请试着用你坚定的双手摧毁那些墙壁,但你也要温和些,因为孩子是非常敏感的,而我就是个孩子。

我是谁?你可能会问。我是你非常熟识的人。因为,我就是每一个男人、每一个女人、每一个孩子......你所遇到的任何人。

Please Hear What I’m Not Saying Poem by Charles C. Finn

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I'm afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.

Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled,
for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command
and that I need no one,
but don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.

But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,
and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to, I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.

I don't like hiding.
I don't like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings--
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!

With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator--
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.

Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.

Charles C. Finn
September 1966




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