dec. 16th, 2021
for as long as i can remember, people have been telling me that humans are social creatures and it's natural to want to be surrounded by other people — natural to want to love and be loved.
yet, despite all of that, sometimes, it feels like being surrounded by people suffocates me. i'm filled with this need to be someone else, to present as someone i'm not. all in the name of what, exactly?
community.
because to belong in a community, you start to fall into the same patterns over and over again. you carve out a niche for yourself and then you're stuck there.
the funny one.
the helpful one.
the smart one.
never the one that needs help.
and once you've created a reputation for yourself, there's a pressure to maintain it. a pressure to make sure the image you've made isn't disrupted. a pressure to keep up with all of the promises you've made.
and just like pressure can create diamonds, it can also damage them. too much pressure can destroy a person, and already, i feel like i'm losing myself again.
or maybe i've already lost myself.
maybe i've noticed too late.
why is it that whenever i start to feel comfortable in a community, i lose my individuality? why am i prone to changing who i am to make people like me more?
and why does this cycle keep repeating?
why do i let my insecurities destroy me?
deep down, i'm scared that if i stop shapeshifting, no one will like who i am, and i guess that scares me the most.
scared of being alone.
scared of what that used to mean.
and i know i should find a balance between individuality and community, but it's hard. every time i try to resolve this, i lean too hard into one side or the other.
too much individuality?
ghosting and drifting away from all of the people i used to talk to and be close with.
too much community?
feeling burnt out. not enough time spent on myself and the things i want to do.
and, like every time this dilemma resurfaces, i drift from one side to the other, trying to find a balance but failing.
surrounded by people yet feeling so alone. in a way, it's even worse because you know they're there but you can't say anything. you can't bring yourself to talk.
talking to people was never an option because it's hard to find people who understand — people who understand me as who i am and not who i present as.
and even when the words tumble out and people reassure you that they won't stop liking you if you're not x, y, or z...
it doesn't change the truth in my mind.
it doesn't change how i feel, and it doesn't relieve the pressure sitting on my chest. the pressure i feel to shapeshift.
a lifelong pressure, really, of being anyone but who you are — anyone you had to be to earn validation and praise.
people think i'm perfect, but that's far from the truth, and maybe this, too, will fall on deaf ears. maybe no one will care.
but i never wrote in this book for anyone but myself, and maybe that's the answer that i've been seeking all along. the thing that'll help save me. i need something that belongs to me and no one else.
something that is solely mine.
and finally, for once, i find peace.
YOU ARE READING
arcane magic
Short Storya book of poetic ramblings, where words have the power to make us feel both lost and found all at once. an exploration of what it means to be alive and feel things and why we're here.
