Once upon a weary timeline...

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…there was a little girl hiding a great big secret:

This girl craved attention. All she wanted was to be seen as the village Queen. She became obsessed with receiving gossip of the townspeople: The Queen has got it all together. The Queen is so succesful. The Queen is beautiful...

But, rather than actually becoming the Queen, she spent all her energy erecting the façade of a Queen. She dedicated her life, throwing everything she could muster into the fake-it-til-you-make-it game. And, as with all lies, the gambol became more complicated with each pirouette. Soon there were so many threads spun out that it was becoming impossible to hold everything together. Yet, her run amok ego would not allow her to stop.

Not only was she dependant upon the town gossip, but she started to feed upon the energy of all those around her. Like a succubus, she drained the spirit, the life and resources of her family and friends, acquaintances, enemies, everyone. Her very existence was devolving into an obsessive addiction. She refused to accept any responsibility for her actions, blaming everyone and everything instead. And thereby slipped into the shadows, trying to hide what she was becoming from the world.

Manipulating, concealing, masquerading, controlling: She began to believe that she was the smartest person around, that she was the puppetmaster; that she deserved everything she was stealing.

On some level, she was aware that this competition, this path, this way of life, was unsustainable. The little girl foresaw a future wherein the house of cards she was feverishly attempting to maintain would come crashing down around her ears, where her secrets would be exposed. Yet, even as the panic arose, she persisted, stubbornly, selfishly, arrogantly, greedily, proceeding with reckless disregard for any consequences whatsoever—not caring whom she hurt, what damage she caused.

She prayed for a knight in shinging armor to come riding over the horizon on his white horse to her rescue—to sweep her off her feet and carry her into a brighter future, away from the mess she had created, away from her complicated life. But the twisted story in her head was so strong, whenever the universe would send someone to her aid she would use and abuse them, same as everyone, same as always.

She refused to learn her lessons. She refused to behave. She refused to grow up. Refused to do what she knew in her heart was right.

She failed to understand: Fake-it-til-you-make-it only works if one is willing to actually put in the effort required to make-it—otherwise, all that is accomplished is just fake.

Day in and day out, she slavishly donned her worn galoshes and marched everything into mud. Never recognizing the fact that she was stomping the living breath out of her own integrity. Never realizing she was killing her own beautiful heart.

Never becoming the Queen she desired so much to be—not a princess, nor duchess or countess or even a lady.

Just a small, sad, petulant child, consumed by a big ass lie...

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