I Was Independent? I Just Never Let Anyone In.
There’s always a girl sitting alone under a tree, reading, while a group of girls chats nearby. You might think she’s the unique one — her own world, comfortable being herself. It’s the opposite. She isn’t reading at all. She’s listening to every word they say.
In high school, I was strong, so I didn’t need to sit with the girls who gossiped.
I was the best, so I liked being alone.
I was independent, so I didn’t need a boyfriend.
I was authentic, so I didn’t need makeup.
That’s how I behaved back then. None of it was true.
I was depressed, crying into my pillow at night and pretending everything was fine at school.
I was desperate to have a boyfriend, working hard to talk to boys, to catch their attention.
But I thought of myself as a “good” student. I was the girl people counted on — smart, a great problem-solver, independent. Classmates came to me about assignments. Some came out to me. Some asked me what to do about the person they liked.
Saying I felt confused would be a sign of weakness. Saying I envied the girls who had boyfriends would be a red flag of being bad. (That’s how I saw it back then.)
I didn’t want to be seen as not good. So I pretended I didn’t care about anything.
On my high school graduation day, I got a letter from one of my closest friends. He wrote:
The best appearance isn’t makeup. It’s your smile. So be confident.
I read it and thought: how did he know?
I thought I had hidden everything perfectly. I thought no one had noticed.
It felt like I was standing fully naked in front of him.
In university, the 19-year-old me tried even harder. I smiled every day. I copied the way they talked, the way they moved, anything that would help me fit in. I was scared of being found out, because I wasn’t good at acting.
One day I overheard a few girls talking about me. They said I was a copycat — always repeating their words, always doing what they did.
I freaked out and escaped to another group. They FOUND OUT! I couldn’t let anyone know the “bad” version of me.
It wasn’t until I met my ex that I really expressed my vulnerabilities. I remember that night. We’d been together for about two or three months, and we sat on the bed chatting.
At that moment, I felt so lonely. I was desperate to be understood. I wanted one place where I could be a girl who didn’t have to pretend to be happy or confident all the time.
I whispered, “I think I look ugly.”
They weren’t angry. They weren’t sad. I couldn’t hear any emotion in their voice at all — just a calm, “If you say so, I would be sad, because I like you and I think you are cute.”
I burst out crying. It was the first time being vulnerable had ever felt good.
And yet I like it when people show me their vulnerabilities. It makes me feel needed, trusted, reliable. I honestly like being that person. I just couldn’t let myself be one of them.
I’m afraid I will lose everything I’ve built if I’m not the one people come to.
What was the 19-year-old you hiding? And are you still hiding it?