Being Real

and how frickin hard it is

“I was ashamed of myself when I realized life was a costume party and I attended with my real face.” - Franz Kafka

It often feels like I’m supposed to follow some sort of script in the world. Like I’m only allowed to show up in a certain way and if I deviate from that, well I’m breaking some sort of unspoken social rule.

I was at a dance a few weeks ago and it was hard. I was faced with pain for someone who was there, who is no longer part of my life. I must accept that pain even as I continue doing my hobby while he is there, not even saying hello. (I tried the first couple of times and he looked right past me, as if I wasn’t even there.)

Well, another man asked me to dance. I know him from other dances. He strikes me as an intelligent man. The previous time we danced he talked about interesting things, for example about the difference between the female and male brain, referencing a video he saw that changed the way he thinks about men and women¹. I saw that video sometime ago and just …