I used to live in a room full of mirrors; all I could see was me. I take my spirit and crash my mirrors, now the whole world is here for me to see.
It seems that with every celebration in my life, either during or shortly thereafter, there is cause for sorrow. I have become so good at hiding my pain and masking Tmy emotions that even I sometimes forget that my facade is often just SMOKE AND MIRRORS. In my 27 years, I have dealt with my fair share of joy and PAIN, but they say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And it has made me stronger, but that strength creates a catch 22.
I am stronger than most, more independent than most, and according to my mother, I could be dropped off in the woods alone and make it out. Great attributes to have, so I heard, but why do I long to be able to sometimes just be vulnerable and allow someone else to take the lead? In the days leading up to my book release and the days that followed, factors in my life caused me to hurt more than I've hurt in a long time. On the outside, I smiled for the cameras and celebrated my accomplishments, but on the inside, I wanted to go home and lock myself away with my bed and my tears until I decided I was ready to deal with the world again. I've become so programmed to masking my pain that sometimes I kid myself into thinking that my life is what I portray through my own formulated SMOKE AND MIRRORS.