Let's begin

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 10, 2017

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Submitted: May 09, 2017



I've always had trouble being honest with myself. It was simply easier to supress my true-self and create someone else, someone I wished to be. In the end, if someone hurts me, it is not truly me they are hurting.

I always appeared strong, confident and responsible. Everything was perfect and yet I've always felt painfully lonely. I felt humiliated everytime someone caught a glimpse of how I felt. It was weakness. It was terrifying. Feeling even a little bit open like that felt petrifying - it felt cold and suffocating.

It was simply easier to have it hidden. It was safer.

But easy is not always right. Easy is rarely right... 

Not feeling good enough left little room for people to know me. I have friends and family who love me but no one truly knows who I am. I don't know who I am. I don't.


I often had dreams of people laughing at me, mocking me. I often dreamed of being rejected and alone, not being worthy of this world. 

I've always felt inadeuquate, always felt out of place. My peers always worried about petty things or were amused by the dumbest situations. They all fit in so easily. So, I had to pretend I am petty and dumb too. I had to.

But I worried. I worried that people will see through me. And I had nightmares of disappearing, being disposed of by the society.  

So yes, I've always had trouble being honest with myself. I lied about being comfortable with myself, happy and
fulfilled. I lied about not being hurt by people. I convinced myself that I am this other person.

And I lived like that for a long time. Until...

Until I met him.

Very slowly, without even knowing, he could eventually see through the blur that was me. The true me. Bit by bit, I could see too. And it was easier and easier to let go. Finally, I felt safe enough to let someone see me vulnerable - see all the scraps, wrinkles and scars and not feel completely terrified.

He loves the true me more than he does the perfect me. And it was ludacris. I kept waiting for the punchline. Kept waiting for my nightmare to start. I was preparing myself for it.
But it never happened. He kept loving me, loving every bit of my imperfection. And not loving me despite them but because of them. 

Maybe this means it's time. It's time to start living my life. It's time to stop worrying about prejudice, mockery and getting hurt. Because it happens either way. People say and do things. They unleash their own perfect person, confident and strong. And that person often needs casualties - path to feeding their self-worth. But the truth is: it's not real.

It's superficial and weak. Just like all the benefits. Your friends are not real, the love is not real and your life is not real. You are not real.

Maybe it is time. Time to be real. 


Let's begin.

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