The person everyone thinks I am

Sometimes I wonder howmany versions of me.exist in other people's minds.

To my family, I am probably one person. To my friends, another. To classmates, strangers, teachers, and people who have only met me once. I am someone else entirely. They all know me, but none of them know the same me.

And strangely, they are all right.

I have become very good at adjusting myself without even noticing it. I know when to be talkative and when to pretend that something doesn't bother me. Sometimes I say " I'm fine." Because explaining the truth would take too much effort. Sometimes I say I don't care because admitting that I care would give someone too much power over me.

There are tiny performances everywhere. I smile when I am uncomfortable. I make jokes when something hurts. I act confident when I am questioning myself. I become quiet when I know that speaking honestly might change how someone sees me.

None of these things are exactly lies. But they aren't the whole truth either. There is a version of me that exists when I am completely alone, and I think she knows me better than anyone else ever could.

She knows what I think about before sleeping.she knows which memories still bother me. She knows what I secretly want. She knows the things I pretend not to want because they sound unrealistic, embarrassing, or too vulnerable. She knows how often I compare myself to people I would never admit I compare myself with. She knows how scared I sometimes am about the future. She also knows the uglier parts.

The jealousy the resentment. The selfish thoughts. The moments when I want to stop being responsible for everyone and everything. The thoughts that I would never say because I know they would change the way people look at me.

Perhaps that is why being completely understood sounds beautiful in theory but terrifying in reality.

What it someone knew everything? Not just the carefully edited version. Not just the funny version. Not just the capable version.

What it they knew the contradictions too? I don't think I have one hidden " true self" waiting to be discovered.Maybe all theseveesions are me. The quiet me. The loud me. The kind me. The angry me. The ambitious me. The exhausted me.

The person I show the world and the person I hide from it. People can know me for years and still only know the parts I have allowed them to see. Maybe the strangest thing about being known is realising that nobody knows all of you.