genuine, pretend or illusion

One of Mom's very best and outstanding student is studying at Columbia. He writes to Mom regularly, reporting his progresses and plans. Mom and Dad LOVE him, but as for me, I just want to stay as far as I can. The imitating and harsh feeling rush through every time I hear his name. In my world, he is a young man of potentials and a prominent future. He is emotionally strong, devoted, focused, determined and brave. He lives in New York, in a filthy house, tiny room, and mossy air. He is living on debt. He is alone in NY, no friends, no family, and certainly no pet. He didn't have a girlfriend backed at Uni and I can predict that he won't have one in the near future as well. But most importantly, he is fine with all these. He seems satisfied and optimistic about his current status and near future. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. He is the strongest person I know. (Actually, I don't know him very well, but whatever). He is perhaps the person whom I'd want to be. He is definitely someone Mom and Dad really love.

Yet, this person that Mom and Dad love, is he really the way he is? Does he fear? Does he feel pain and stress? Is he a robot? What is the deep dark secret? What is hiding in the closet?

Perhaps nothing. Perhaps he is born with all these qualities. I don't know, like I said, I don't know him at all.
We wear armors because we are vulnerable. The fear of hurting or losing hunts us everyday that to protect ourselves, we pretend to be sturdy and confident people. We accept life with equanimity.

When I was a freshman, there were two adjectives that illustrated me: fake and cynical. I am that typical kind of girl who ask a classmate to help fix the computer, reinstall the OS, and change the CPU fan. Then I contributed to my campus, which was filled with guys, a cute face, a adorable personality, and a cajole voice that by all accounts can let a guy melt right there and then. I am fake because I don't have an adorable personality. My roommates said that I am a "dark" person; that if each of us is matched to a color, mine is the darkest black that one can't even tell how dark it is. That is how cynical they thought I was. And it was probably true.

To my siblings and distant family, I am confident, determine, diligent, and strong. But everyone here probably knows the truth - I am so far away from those qualities that if you draw a line scaling least confident to most confident, I am probably an outlier that is not found anywhere.

The promising NY Columbia young lad is perhaps genuine because I have no way of proving he is not. I am a pretend to the University because I pretend to be sweet, charming, and adorable. As for my family, what they perceive, it's just an illusion.

Some truths are not to be said aloud even to oneself. Not saying is not admitting. I am not going to say them, or admit them. As ironic as it can be, I am just going to let it be.
Armors can leave us in solitude, but that's okay because we choose it.