I think people would be surprised if they knew how much of my personality was built for survival.
Most people assume loud girls are naturally confident. Funny people are naturally happy. Dramatic people enjoy attention.
That isn't always true.
Sometimes people become noticeable because invisibility hurts too much.
I realized recently that I had spent years trying to become someone impossible to ignore.
Laugh louder. Speak more. Act dramatic. Pretend things don't hurt. Make people smile even when your own chest feels heavy.
Because maybe if you become entertaining enough, people finally start noticing you emotionally too.
The saddest part?
Even after doing all that, loneliness still finds you somehow.
There were moments when I wanted someone to look at me properly and ask,
"Are you actually okay?"
Not casually. Not out of politeness.
Genuinely.
But nobody did.
And eventually I stopped expecting them to.
I think growing up emotionally neglected teaches people dangerous things. One of them is learning how to hide pain so well that even when you're drowning, people still think you're fine.
That became my normal.
I don't blame people entirely though. Most humans only see what is shown to them. And I became very good at acting unaffected.
Sometimes even I couldn't tell which version of myself was real anymore.
The quiet one?
The funny one?
The detached one?
Or the girl who stayed awake at night trying not to think too much because once she started thinking, everything inside her became unbearably loud.
Idk.
Maybe all of them were real.
People talk about healing as though it's beautiful and inspiring. They never mention how confusing it feels when you've spent years building your identity around survival.
Because who are you after the survival mode ends?
I don't think I know yet.
But I know one thing for sure.
I'm tired of performing strength every single day just so people assume I'm okay.