Irony of life

A bit about me. In all honesty.

Imagine the irony of my life...

My teachers told me - I write well
I didnt say my mom wrote about three fourths of that essay.

Was I good?
My mom's help didnt last long
And I had to keep up appearances at school.
So I continued to write...
My friends said I wrote well.
I am not sure whether I do.

But I know, I can write better than I can talk
I can spill my deepest, darkest secret in any email, letter or poem
And believe me , the words gush out.
But I hate writing for the very fact that
I am not ready to reveal too much about myself.
Not yet.

Its not like I have the paparazzi hounding me.
I am no star.
I have stuff to say
But do I want you to hear them?
I have opinions to air
But do I want you to judge them?
I have tears to shed
But I dont want you to see them.
So I laugh and smile a lot
Which hides the real me very well.

But the strain of hiding what needs to be out in the open -
Catches up to me in unbelievable ways.

A pin drops and I cry
But the tears dry up easily
Coz they are not for the pin [imagine crying for a pin!]
It was for some memory some pain which I had stored away in my cupboard
Which let itself loose.
I yearn at times for someone to understand me
But most times I rather that people misjudge me.
I dont want to correct your opinion about me
But I do want to be liked.

I might not make sense to anyone out there
But to me I make perfect sense!

So this marks the beginning of my constant struggle with myself.  To write or not to write is just one small snowflake in the avalanche!
The ruins of the past ( read old blogs which never took off) warn me that this is going to be another crash landing. Fingers crossed and hoping for the best.