I think about the way that I am, or is the way that I choose to be, and wonder if I will ever be okay in my own skin. I feel too much, love to deeply, but approach the world with a bitter indifference. Don’t let them see you cry. Stiff upper lip. People make jokes about my bitchy face and I laugh along. Sometimes I make a cutting remark and then feel my cheeks burning and my eyes stinging with tears. I will think about the comment for weeks. Why was I so quick to say something nasty? I want to be nice; I want to be liked; I want to be better.
You say I’m one of the nicest people you know and all those people showed up for my birthday and brought thoughtful gifts and hugged me and said they were happy to be there. I don’t think I know what I’m actually like. I see myself in all these different lights, but I’m only seeing reflections, not the real thing. It’s like looking at a picture too closely; you can’t get an idea of the entire image. There’s a deep loneliness in not knowing what people really think of you. I am always guarding myself against their scrutiny, pretending I don’t care what they think, but I do; I care way too much.
I move around in this life like I’m wandering through a house of mirrors, chasing down the reflection that is actually me. But that’s just it, isn’t it? They will always just be reflections and reflections can’t tell you the whole truth. I am the one who decides who I really am and that comes from within me. That is a decision I can make for myself every single day. So. Who am I today? Who will I be tomorrow? And, does it really matter at all?