A tough nut. That is what they called her. Gutsy and confident, she exuded an air of arrogance. An attitude that came with her accomplishments. Always confined to the walls of a zone well defined, she seldom let anyone in. No one entered that zone; for they feared her in an unusual sort of way. She was out of bounds for the world, for she chose to; she chose to maintain a distance.

The world gave her a name. The ice maiden. 

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It didn’t deter her. She was above the names that the world chose to give her. The ice maiden, she laughed. It hurts, she said silently; this name and every other adjective that was thrust upon her.

But she wasn’t the one who would surrender to her pains. She was a fighter. Years of struggle; she had been through it. She had always fought bitter battles that the world knew nothing about. She never wanted anyone to know. Behind the veils of her powerful personality was a child that wished to be loved and protected. But she would never let anyone know. That was her strength. Or so she chose to believe.

She chose to be alone. Not that she was lonely. If only people knew the meaning of loneliness. She found company in the mystery of her books. In the canvas of her sketches. In the emotions of her writings. In the privacy of her notes. In the tunes of her music. She chose everything that could never drill a hole in her heart. She chose simplicity. She chose the little joys that meant nothing to many. She chose to embrace the uncelebrated with a child like innocence. 

The ice maiden. That’s what they call me. Let them. After all, all the ice would melt at the first ray of sunshine. I shall stay cold when all they have to offer is frost. Give me sunshine and they shall see me melt. Haven’t you seen me melt, my dear? She asked of her diary. The diary was her confidante. The one place where she felt safe. 

She scribbled in her notes, I am not defined by the titles conferred upon me. Among many others, I gracefully accept this title. 

As the quote from Marcus Aurelis goes,
Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we hear is a perspective, not the truth.

To be not defined by what the world defines us is a choice. It is a choice you hold.

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