Sometimes I wonder. I mean, there are plenty of people out there who don't like me very much. There are some who thoroughly dislike me. I'm not really concerned about those.
What is harder for me is those who act like they like me, but I'm never really sure. Or I'm not sure how much, or if they're trustworthy, or if they'd try to drag my name through the mud if they, one day, decided I was deserving of such.
Sometimes I wonder why some people like me, and though I don't fancy myself the best-looking kid on the block, or the funniest, I wonder if people often take an interest in me for entirely superficial reasons. Who likes me because of who I know? Who likes me because they're attracted? Who likes me because I write or say things they think are funny?
I just had this feeling, recently, that the majority of the people with whom I associate are missing out on the most valuable parts of my personality I have to offer. They miss the point. They don't get it. They don't get me.
I was thinking about all of this a couple of days ago when I remembered:
a) Everyone is attracted to other people on some (usually superficial) level to begin with. It's how friendships begin. There's something you like about someone, so you explore to see what else there is to them. It's OK.
b) If nobody is seeing those parts of me I feel are most precious, perhaps it's because I am, in fact, not portraying them. Maybe I am actually becoming a more shallow version of myself, so of course fewer people will see through what I, in fact, am displaying: my more distracting traits which inhibit the deeper, more meaningful aspects of my personality from being seen.
So go fig, I'm feeling boxed in by my shallow, self-crafted persona. Shoot.
This entry may have a slightly whiny tone, but I assure you that's not my intent. I'm voicing this because I've talked with friends who feel similar doubts in their relationships, and I just thought I'd vocalize a couple of my thoughts in relation and attest that I, for one, am not totally immune to these concerns.
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