LILIES

Been traipsing around cyberspace for the past two hours, visiting blogs of people I know and people I don't know and don't care about. Lazy day.

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Sometimes I think I'm a fraud. I have this nagging feeling that I am not the person that everyone makes me out to be. And I mean EVERYONE, including my parents. I'm afraid they give me too much credit (but then again sometimes I think they give me too little. Labo mehn.)

I am an image. A vision of something, someone. A picture that floats out of the canvas, and you think, hey that's a waterlily, but when you look closer it's just thousands of little, individual strokes, and there's really no waterlily. Kind of like an impressionist painting. Funny, because I love Monet (especially his waterlily series).

People see me as this strong, positive character, and I don't blame them. Maybe I do come out that way, for one reason or another.

But they don't know the storms raging inside me. They don't know the battles I constantly wage with myself. Yes, they know my fears, because they are a reflection of their own, but no one knows where my fears are coming from.

And I am very afraid. And very weak. And no amount of reassurance or kindness or even tough love can change that at this point.