I'm sick of society tryna convince me to hate myself

And disgusted that it actually worked...

It wasn’t until I started my quest for authenticity that I realized how much I hated myself. Why was being real only ok when I did it in private? Why did I have to put on a mask to carry out the simplest of actions?

My true self shouldn't feel like a dirty little secret. She probably shouldn't feel like a burden either, but sometimes she does.

I used to resent her. She would always watch me perform, silently begging with insistent eyes for her turn in the spotlight. She kept trying to show me the right way, but it was in the opposite direction of safety.

So naturally, I kept dismissing her.

“Someday,” I’d brush her off. “When it’s more convenient. More safe.”

But, she was unrelenting. And I hated her for it.

The longer I waited though, the more apparent it became that she was right. She was trying to liberate me from the prison I had built around myself.

I could’ve waited my entire life and still never found the perfect moment to start living. I would’ve never taken that first shaky step outside of the matrix.

Eventually, I gave in to her demands. I tried to relearn her and asked her to forgive me for abandoning her.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you out in the cold for all those years,” I tearfully pleaded. “I’m sorry for acting like you were an embarrassment in front of those people I was trying to impress.”

I had to convince her I wouldn’t do it again and that the only embarrassing thing was how fake and desperate for validation I had become. And ever the beautiful and loving spirit, she forgave me.

I’ve now made it my responsibility to show up as myself to the best of my ability. It’s turned out to be one of the hardest, most radical things I’ve ever had to do. Authenticity is one of my biggest mental blocks (after money and before accepting help).

I get so caught up in what other people want or expect. Should I be less sensitive? More outgoing? Easier?

I’m fatigued by the constant tug-of-war between my intuition and my people-pleasing.

Begrudgingly, I admit that I have been successfully programmed. No matter how hard I try to fight against it, my conditioning makes me want to keep pretending and performing. To keep saying no to my true self’s wants and needs. To betray her again.

“She’ll forgive you,” the programming tells me. “She always does. Besides, no one wants the real you anyway. I programmed you to protect you.”

What I find quite interesting though, is that I admire authenticity in others so fucking much.

My favorite artists tend to be the people who were brave enough to color outside the lines. The ones who forged their own lanes because being anything other than themselves may have killed them.

Look at Doechii, Kendrick Lamar, and Tyler, the Creator. They’re so different from the status quo. And it would appear that being anything other than who they are wasn’t even a choice.

I love the fuck out of that, man. That’s the type of unapologetic energy I’m tryna bring to the function.

Being inauthentic almost killed me.

I would often feel flat and lifeless. It was as if I had already died. I was on autopilot just going through the motions. Everything felt so vanilla. And the scariest thing is that nothing seemed to matter.

What is this? Ennui? Depression?

I had a conveyor belt of pessimistic thoughts like “Being alive feels like a punishment.” or “I can’t wait to die. Dead people are the ones who made it out.”

I started to feel afraid of what I might do.

Every day felt the same no matter what happened. And that was because no matter what I did, I made sure there was no passion or fire behind it. Being too different or weird scares the hoes.

I was afraid of scaring the hoes.

There’s this unspoken list of pre-approved things for just about every category you can think of. Jobs, responses, clothing, facial expressions, beliefs, interests — I could go on all fucking day.

If you choose something that isn’t on the list, that’s basically your ass. You’ll be shunned, ridiculed, or looked at as an example of what not to do.

But, I’m sick of picking things from that list. And I’m so fucking sick of feeling like I’m always wrong. How could who I am, like truly am, be inherently wrong?

At what point do we say that it’s e-fuckin’-nough?

You guys have been pretending too, right? Aren’t you all tired of it? Like don’t you find yourself wanting to escape this insufferable fake person you’ve created?

Wouldn’t you like to be able to look back on your life and say that you spent at least some of it being unabashedly you?

I would.

At this point, stepping into my authenticity isn’t even an act of courage, it’s a necessity. I physically can’t be someone else anymore. I’d rather die. I’m so fuckin’ serious.

I held on to being palatable and easily digestible for as long as I possibly could. I’m letting go now. I’m bouta wild the fuck out. I hope I do scare the hoes.

Anywho, I’m outta here.