When I post online, it is actually a way for me to exist, to connect, to see myself without the reality of existing, connecting, seeing myself. Instead of taking up space in The Real World, our Universe, I have carved out a little room for myself. There’s unlimited space on this server; nobody will be upset if I claim this area as my own, for me.
My social media content is my way of looking in the mirror, but instead of a reflection in glass, it is a reflection I have hand-painted, constructed, crafted from my own materials. But the framing is just the same as everyone else’s. It’s less about others seeing me than it is about me seeing me.
I am terrified to be real. I am so afraid to exist. Afraid to make decisions and stand by them. Afraid to share my vision of the world around me. Afraid to be responsible for my own life, for literally my living. I’m scared to make a living, because what if I do it wrong?
But there, out there, online, it’s safe for me to be. Because, to differing extents and at different times, I know it is not real. I want to be, but I don’t want to be real. That’s commitment. That’s true vulnerability – taking actions instead of making statements or giving impressions.
I wrestle with my personal contradiction of wanting attention and praise while being so terrified of receiving attention and praise. Even when something I’ve posted on social media gets a lot of attention, I suddenly regret it because I feel… I suppose I feel exposed, but I also feel… seen? But seen through a judgmental view. And that’s the same with my writing, with my opinions, my feelings, my social interactions, my efforts to sustain and support my survival… all of these things are illuminated by various tinted bulbs, in alternate gazes, the lighting so often uncomplimentary, unflattering… and the brighter a bulb of judgment gets, the harder it is to see anything under it and the harder it becomes to discern whether it’s someone else’s lightbulb or my own.
My ideas of what others may think about me, negative so much more often than positive, are so difficult to crack open and escape from once I believe in them. Ultimately, they’re my thoughts, right? But I really believe they come from other people and I value their judgments over mine, even though they’re about me and I know and understand myself best. But I have struggled to value my own opinion throughout my life – it has not felt substantial. So I claw for and cling to others’ opinions to define me because they have that value. But I don’t want them to see me too closely… because the times the people closest to me, even including myself, casted judgments that made me feel small, wrong, bad, unworthy of existence have stuck out so sharply in my mind that I try to build up some kind of defense to dull their blades.
the and times 