I compensate for my personality by being perfect in every other way.
I strive for a model of perfection, a perfect winged liner, no wrinkles in my clothes, no cracks in the facade. Every detail becomes important. A smile on my face and happy words on my tongue. In that moment, there is not a hill I wouldn’t cross to achieve this outward ‘perfection’. There is this unyielding determination to maintain an impeccable facade. My words are carefully chosen, woven with positivity, and laced with optimism, creating an illusion of harmony and self-assurance. I am happy, I am calm and I have my shit together.
Sure, when I put on this facade of perfection, it does make me feel good temporarily. I enjoy the fleeting satisfaction of seeming like I’ve got it all together. But if you peel back the layers, you’ll find the true me: someone who’s struggling to be accepted, battling self-doubt, and craving genuine connections with others.
Deep down, I often find myself questioning the authenticity of this perfect persona I’ve created. Will this constant chase for perfection, the constant running after it till I lose my breath bring me the happiness or the peace I so dearly crave? Or would I have to actually deal with the possibility that I have to be able to show the real me to achieve this kind of happiness.
Would they even like me if they got to know the real me?
Think about the word ‘you’. The concept of ‘being yourself’. Do you feel the same thing I do? Do you know who that is supposed to be? A little girl striving hard to please her parents, the pretty one every guy is after, the sweet one who makes everyone’s days better or the one who is going to be utterly successful in life. Which one of these is me? A constant struggle, one where I am one person one moment and another in the next. When I hide parts of myself from everyone how can I ever truly know who I am? Parts of myself are hidden from me as well. The part that wants to so badly have a partner in this life, the part that wants to break down.
Being true to yourself is embracing your identity and finding contentment in your own skin. It involves living life on your terms, irrespective of others’ judgments, and demonstrating self-respect. Dwelling on others’ opinions is futile since you cannot influence their thoughts or perceptions.
The concept of ‘having a personality’ is what sets us apart from animals. That is all it is supposed to do. It has instead become a societal pressure. What you like, what you dislike become what people like about you, what makes you a part of a certain social group. Where you want to be in life, what you want to do is defined by this ‘personality’ you have. The pressure to like something, the pressure to not, for something as trivial as a song or a book.
I call bullshit. I reject it, the fact that I must fit in. The predefined moulds or cater to societal expectations. I am not here to please; I am here to live a life that fulfils me.
A classic experience of the late teens to early 20s. The quest to find oneself. A time where we all grapple with the intricacies of our emotions, dreams, and peculiarities. Each experience, whether triumphant or challenging, contributes to the mosaic of our identities. Amidst the uncertainties and complexities, a sense of excitement emerges. There is so much left in our lives that I for one want to live to the fullest. In the vast possibilities life presents, a good personality should be the last of my worries at this point in time.
Discovering who I truly am feels a bit like wandering through a twisty, turny, hurtful mess. But, I’m diving into it headfirst. The real, deep-down happiness and peace, I so terribly crave, can only come from accepting the genuine me, the one with all the layers peeled off. I’m not just the roles I play or the masks I wear to fit in. I’m a jumble of emotions, dreams, and quirks, the good and the bad. Becoming me feels like looking into a constantly shifting kaleidoscope. I change constantly but it is who I am and I will keep changing till the day I die.
People will come and go but I will always be there, always. I exist for myself, but for that I need to know who I am.