I am only what you imagine me to be.
"I have always been tormented by the image of multiplicity of selves. Some days I call it richness, and other days I see it as a disease, a proliferation as dangerous as cancer. My first concept about people around me was that all of them were coordinated into a whole, whereas I was made up of a multitude of selves, of fragments. I know that I was upset as a child to discover that we had only one life." – Anais Nin
How much of what I write is true?
I can only say that I have not lied.
I do not write about objective facts – recounts of a day in my life or the things happening around me. Facts are seldom poetic. But feelings are. The words that I use to bring forth my innermost desires and my perception of my relationships, they may aid in crafting an image or in creating a persona. Essentially, I piece together the fragments of myself and what little I know when I write, and I package it in a way that is aesthetically pleasing. Presentation is an art, though I do not do it consciously.
I may not be the woman I portray myself to be, but this is the woman I most sensually and artistically want to believe I am and others to believe I am.
This is not to say my words are untruths. I do not lie anymore.