"I'm a fraud."
He rolled his eyes, "You're not a fraud. You are mine. It's just life. We've both had a lot going on lately"
"Prove that I'm not a fraud then, because I really feel like one lately."
Seriously?! Will I never learn??
And he did.
Yet further proof that we are what we are despite our doubts or efforts to the contrary.
I think that maybe...Maybe I didn't want to be this anymore, so I convinced myself that I wasn't what I am. The odd thing about being human is that, in the end, it doesn't matter what we tell ourselves we are--because ultimately, we are nothing more and nothing less than who we are.
I realized that I'm a bit like a box, (wish I had a prettier or more graceful analogy). Sometimes I feel like one of those battered cardboard boxes you see floating around the recycling bin, full of unwanted old things. And other times I feel like one of those rare awesome wooden trunks, full of old secrets and hidden treasures.
Accepting who I am makes me feel like the trunk. When I won't, or can't, I become the box. But who I am is always there, no matter what else is currently residing inside with me, or what trappings I find myself surrounded by.