Behind My Charade

I’m not me.  To anyone I know, I’m not the real me.  What you see isn’t who I am.  Not really.  There are definitely parts of me in there, but the mishmash I exhibit in front of you is simply that — a front.

That’s not, oddly enough, to say that I’m faking what I’m actually like or anything.  No, I stopped trying to be something I’m not after I got into the Beatles.  It’s moreso that I don’t think you’ll truly accept who I am if you see what I’m really like.

I’ve admitted some pretty heavy things on here, but even those . . . They were things about me.  They were things I *somehow* felt comfortably writing about on here.  Or at least, if not comfortable, they were things I needed to write about in a public forum so I could get over them myself.

There are a lot of things, though, that I still wonder about.  And this is where it gets difficult.  Because even when I want to say this stuff, even when I want to continue, I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  I don’t want you to think I’m singling you out among the rest of the people I know.  I don’t actually know if anyone will think that, but I don’t know if they’d tell me they did.  All I can do is assume.

Yet at the same time that I’d love to be able to write down all the different things that cross my mind, I also hate confrontation.  And that inevitably comes with writing things you know people won’t be happy about.  Even if it’s not a major confrontation, not a malicious-intent one, I don’t like it.  So I keep quiet.

I on’t know why I’m announcing this.  Maybe it’s like wading into water.  I’m wading into being able to be blunt about things I think.  Yet, I don’t feel that’s actually true.  Because despite everything, I still care what others think.  It matters to me far too much.  For all my advocating of be your own person, stop worrying about others’ opinions, I probably care more than anyone how I’m seen by others.

It’s an odd contradiction I never thought I’d have to admit about myself . . .