I am the Audience

    Taking a deep breath, I wipe away the tears and frustration of the morning. It is almost time to get back on stage. Putting on the finishing touch to my costume, a mask of a smile and happiness, I take one last look at myself in the mirror. Everything is ready. I look like my character. And I almost start to feel like my character though behind my mask, behind my plastic smile, behind my perfect character, I am still hurt, bitter, and lonely. I still would just like to stay home and sleep. But, instead, I enter stage and be everything I think I have to be. My stage is the building I go to every Sunday called church. My audience is everyone around me. Sometimes I think I can even fool God. My character is that sweet girl who works in the nursery when the person who was supposed to do it is home sleeping. My character is the girl who smiles and nods when people tell her the things she really doesn't care to hear. I am the girl who is perfect. Nothing less, or my audience might think that Mom and Dad are bad parents. They may hurt them and the worst part would be that my parents would love me anyway. No, I have to be perfect, that's all I know to do. I know it's wrong for me to expect that of myself but it's hard to change. In a way, I make myself believe that the people at church are my audience when really, I am. I am the audience. I expect myself to be perfect. I become bitter and hard-hearted because I can't let anyone know how much I hurt. I especially can't let myself know. I can't cry. I can't trust anyone. Nobody can know that I am not everything I make myself seem. I have to be tough. I can't let myself know that it hurt when somebody told lies about my parents. I have to keep it bottled inside to grow. But I can't break. Sometimes I try to cry but I can't. I can't change. It's just stuffed too far in there.

Introduction to Who We Are

     Hello, our names are Malea and Caitmo. We're both pastor's kids. Our lives are a whole lot different than most teenagers. A couple months ago we decided to start a blog for writing about what goes on behind the mask of a pk... we decided this because we went online a while back, thinking that we could find something good to relate to. Nothing. So now we're making one, hoping that it will help other pks.
     We met a couple years ago at a pk retreat but it wasn't until the second retreat that we really started connecting. We built a close friendship over text messages. There are a lot of reasons we can relate with each other, mostly because we're pks. Our goal is that you (the reader) will be able to relate with us, too.