Disclaimer I do not own this song. It is by Dashboard Confessional. I sorta own La Sorelli but she was inspired by the real La Sorelli in The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. Carlotta and Christine Daae are both brilliant characters in The Phantom of the Opera. The real La Sorelli is a ballerina, mine is an operatic singer/actress, much like Christine and Carlotta.

"The Places You Have Come To Fear The Most"

Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself
And covered with a perfect shell
Such a charming, beautiful exterior
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
Perfect posture, but you're barely scraping by
But you're barely scraping by

La Sorelli's eyes gazed out at the crowd. It was swarming and people were still coming in. She sighed, knowing that no matter how superior her performance, it would never please her mother. She was too low, too high, not joyful enough, too flat, or too piercing. No matter how many 'encore's' they called for, her mother would not be satisfied. She sat down at her mirror and stared. She should have seen a striking woman with dazzling indigo eyes and raven colored hair with hints of copper. She should have seen a wonderful singer with beautiful bone structure, high cheekbones, and straight teeth. Instead, she saw an ungrateful little child who would never own up to the expectations of her mother. She felt tears approaching reluctantly, knowing that every one that she shed would make the heavy black liner bleed long black treads onto her cheeks. La Sorelli closed her eyes and tried to calm down. Her mother would be disappointed to know that her daughter "cried like a newborn baby behind the theater". Her mother's exact words.

This is one time, this is one time
That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all...or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee
The places that you've come to fear the most
It's the place that you have come to fear the most

"La Sorelli! What's wrong?" Johannes cried. She looked up at La Sorelli, her role model. La Sorelli was everything that Johannes wanted to be. She was beautiful, a remarkable opera singer, and very kind. La Sorelli gazed at Johannes with her heavily made eyes. She tried to smile genuinely but somehow the smile got lost between her mouth and her eyes. "Nothing is wrong, little Johannes. I've got butterflies, that's all." And she turned to look at herself in the mirror. Johannes crossed her little arms, "Something is the matter La Sorelli. I can tell by the way you look at yourself in the mirror."

Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself
And hidden in the public eye
Such a stellar monument to loneliness
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
Perfect make-up, but you're barely scraping by
But you're barely scraping by...

La Sorelli opened her mouth and marveled at the aptitude of someone as young as Johannes. She blinked back tears and sighed. "I don't know if I can sing tonight," Seeing the astonished look on Johannes' face, she tried to feint as candidly as she could. "Carlotta and Christine… they are both stunning. They sing before me and… I don't think I can compare to them." She finished lamely, looking down at her vanity and the precious treasures it contained. Johannes looked at her, her doe like brown eyes large with compassion and understanding. She leaned nearer to La Sorelli and whispered, "It's your mother, isn't it? I see the way that she berates you after a breathtaking performance. Why do you let her humiliate you so?" La Sorelli gasped. She whirled around and stared at Johannes' expression. "How do you know?" She whispered, her tears betraying her. La Sorelli had never told anyone of the damage that her mother caused her; for someone as young as Johannes to know and understand how she felt, was unparalleled. "I hear her shout at you in your dressing room," she alleged, her eyes wide with innocence, "Everyone hears it. Everyone knows. Have you not noticed Meghan does not bother you anymore when you are practicing? And Genevieve will not applaud your mother's labor anymore. How could you not detect it?" She grabbed La Sorelli's hand, which was trembling and clammy. "We know how hard your mother pushes you. You see how Josef congratulates even the smallest bit you do? We all know one day, you might rupture from the constant worry." La Sorelli bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't think I can do this anymore." Johannes looked at La Sorelli, her russet eyes full of sympathy for the elder female. She whispered delicately, bending near her ear so only she would heed, "Then leave."

La Sorelli gasped. "Leave? How can I? This is my home! The opera… I was born and raised here! How can I leave?" She looked down at the worn wooden floorboards of the opera. So many people had become well known from working with the opera. This was La Sorelli's dream—to show her mother that she wasn't just some little monster that didn't know what to do with her life. She was somebody.

Johannes nodded for the last time and cocked her head. "Leave," she said softly, with a poignant gaze, "If you do, she won't hurt you anymore."

La Sorelli stared back at those warm, understanding eyes.

"Leave."

Well this is one time, well this is one time
That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all... or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee
The places that you've come to fear the most
It's the place that you have come to fear the most

And you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all... or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee
The places that you've come to fear the most
It's the place that you've come to fear the most
It's the place that you have come to fear the most