Authenticity

Where do I draw the line?

I don’t always know the difference between true and false; real and fake.

I definitely can’t always tell what I really mean, and what I’m just saying because it’s easier, and I decided to be low effort.

I used to describe myself as someone who always knew exactly what she didn’t want, even if she couldn’t be sure of what she did want

Now, I don’t know either.

I’ve become a version of myself that lies to myself first, so it’s easier to take the bare minimum,

And recently, it all spilled over, like it had been waiting years for the chance to fall apart.

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I’m sitting here now, only able to write after so long, because the loose ends feel tied up,

And I can’t write from a place of chaos anymore, because I no longer hold myself responsible for sorting through the mess that my anxious mind might be.

I’m writing because I finally feel sane and honest, like my mind is mine and it’s not fair to let anything take that away;

And because 218 of you remind me that this place is something that’s mine,

Because 218 is somehow more than a number, it’s a reminder that the girl God made me to be should not be erased.

And it’s one of the things that remind me that life is beautiful, even when I wasn’t truly present, and it felt like I was watching myself through someone else’s eyes.

But still, things are changing, and I know I want to be my authentic self when that happens,.

I might have started acting like someone else to fit everyone else’s ideal,

But no one asked me to do that, and no one who’s truly for me will.

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I may not always be sure what authenticity means,

More often than not, there’s that tiny voice in my head evaluating every reaction, watering down my opinions until I’m not sure they even matter,

But I know where lying to myself has gotten me.

I know it gave me a seat in situations that I knew were bad for me.

I know it stopped me from writing, because I so badly wanted to be able to write to people and not just put my thoughts out the way they come.

But that’s the person I have to admit that I am(

I’m the person telling you how many stories she writes in her head a day, because it creates a safe space for you if you do the same.

I’m the person singing a little too loudly when no one’s there, because I love hearing the effect music has on other people, but I’m still the person who’ll hum instead when she’s next to you, because caring to me is making room.

I’m the person who wrote this while watching a Neptune3 studios movie, because I felt my heart move again, and I wasn’t about to let that moment go.

My substack is a reflection of that; all the little things that make people feel seen.

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I may not be a perfect writer.

I’m definitely not a perfect person.

But I’m someone who tries,

And this time, I’m trying to be honest, I’m trying to be real.

And I hope that never fades.