I really don't know what to do. There is this problem I have, a reoccurring problem, with people. It's not my overwhelming shyness, I'm accustomed to dealing with that, have learned to push past that particular barrier of pain and shame. I can stare a man down safe in the knowledge that I am an Innocent, bear no burden of guilt that he cannot equal or surpass. I am not afraid of the world anymore. I know that we are all hideously ugly and resplendently beautiful in equal measures. I am not afraid, and I wear my scars with pride.

I am not afraid, but they are. I scare people. I seem incapable of judging people, or assessing the situation we find ourselves in and reacting in a way that they deem acceptable. I am not ashamed. I know how achingly beautiful I am, even when they cannot or refuse to see it, to see me that way. I must look like some hulking, scarred beast to them. And I know in my heart of hearts that that is exactly what I am. But I know I must learn to hide that side of myself if I am ever to get by in this world of people. To "tone down my crazy", to turn a phrase.

But I am stubborn. I am tired of hiding my scars, as I hid them for so long, hid them even from myself. It did me no good. When they dipped their hands past my shimmering surface and felt them, felt the twisted wounds that wind their way from head to my feet, they balked, retched, turned and ran. So why should I pretend to be anything than what I am? Why should I not run naked through this shining Eden that creates itself wherever I look? Why should I cover myself in shame and guilt? I feel no guilt. I have walked through the fire and it covered me with ash, and that ash is filled with stars.

I am not afraid. Why are they?