Have you ever seen the sky reflected in water?
At sunset, when reds and oranges mix with the blue — it’s beautiful, but also a little unclear. A mirror of something real, but never quite the real thing.
When I look in the mirror, the face staring back at me often feels the same.
Painted in expressions I’ve practiced. Covered in layers I barely notice anymore. Sometimes I wonder if even I know what’s underneath it all. Are there real emotions stirring somewhere in there, or just more facades?
Lately, I’ve caught myself thinking:
“If I were really capable of being successful, wouldn’t I be there already?”
I don’t know if that’s honesty or self-sabotage.
Maybe it’s a lie I tell myself to feel better about where I am — or maybe, it’s a question I’m scared to answer truthfully. Either way, it sits with me. And it’s heavy.
I compare myself to others far too often.
But how can I measure my life against someone else’s when I don’t even know if I’m showing up as my full self?
A Skeleton in the Light
When I was a kid, my mom made me a skeleton costume for Halloween.
It was black and covered in hand-painted bones that glowed in the dark. I remember how proud she was of it — and how I couldn’t wait to show it off. When I stepped into the night, the bones lit up under the porch light. People pointed, smiled. I was glowing. Visible in a way I had never been before.
It was the first time in my life I felt like I was wearing my insides on the outside.
Of course, it was just a costume. But there was something powerful about being seen like that — bones and all. No hiding, no pretending. Just structure and truth, glowing in the dark.
Some part of me still craves that:
To be seen clearly.
To wear the truth of who I am without apology.
If true authenticity is what I’m after, maybe it starts smaller than I thought.
Maybe it begins by noticing how often I say “I’m fine” when I’m really not.
By pausing before I perform a version of myself that isn’t true.
Maybe it starts with telling the truth — not just to others, but to me.
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