Issue #3: The Way We Fear Falling Short

There’s a poem in my book Wander Under My Sun titled Disappointed. I remember writing it with tears sitting just behind my eyes. I couldn’t cry. But the emotions were heavy on my chest.

This poem felt deeply personal. Still does.

It came from a pattern I saw too many times. Someone would meet me and light up. Call me inspiring. Say I was “different.” “Special.” They’d paint this version of me with bright colors, and for a while, I would feel seen.

But soon, the colors would fade. And it wouldn’t be because I changed, but because their image of me never matched who I really was.

And this was what hurt the most: I started performing.

I tried to keep up the illusion. To be what they thought I was. Wear a mask for awhile till it was obvious I was a clown. It hurt.

My young self thought maybe if I tried hard enough, people will stay by my side. But pretending is a heavy thing. It weighs on you and deforms you till you can barely recognise yourself.

That’s what the poem Disappointed came out of. Writing that poem was a small form of release. I wasn’t trying to be poetic. I was just trying to be honest. I still dislike that word though. I’m sure you’ve guessed by now it’s the title of the poem.

We all have words we are afraid of. They stab. They burn. We build walls against those words. We are quivering souls when we hear them from people we wanted to keep.

It’s not just that word I think about. I still think about how it feels to crumble behind the curtain, and I wonder…

How many of us are walking around as someone else’s idea of us?

This is what I wished I told my younger self (and maybe, I still have to tell my current self). This is what I wish to tell you: You don’t have to perform to be loved. You don’t have to impress to be enough. You’ll meet the right people who will meet and love the real you. They won’t be disappointed, because maybe, they’ve been waiting for someone real too.