The Art of Loving and Losing

I want to be that little girl

Sometimes I wish I could go back to those days when I was young and didn't care about what other people thought of me.

I used to twirl around like a ballerina when I was bored waiting in line outside of the cafeteria. I needed no stage nor audience to impress. Just a way to ignore my grumbling stomach. 

I used to walk along sidewalks or school hallways singing out the lyrics of my favorite songs, as if I were the star of my own music video. It didn't matter whether others heard my singing voice.

I used to annoy the boys every time I beat them at Mario Kart. We used to secretly play behind the furthest tree in the school yard where the teachers couldn't see us, and I would gloat on my victory. "So, yeah. I'm a girl. I can play video games and be good at them. You got a problem with that?"

If only I had that confidence now.

Now, I care more about what other people think of me. Everything I do feels like it's meant to please the other and not myself. Everything is perfectly orchestrated to not disappoint. The onlookers dictate my every move. I'm just a mere puppet of what I think society expects of me. And if that imposing, invisible puppet master wasn't holding up the strings, I would crumble to the ground.

I'm a shadow of who I once was. I'm a projection of the "perfect person". No time to screw up. To displease everyone else would be catastrophic. So, I let the insecurities and anxieties burden my days as I surrender to the mold. I'm only me in my internal world.

Once I tried to teach myself how to speak without moving my lips, like a ventriloquist. That way I could sing in the streets like I used to do. But without anyone knowing. I don't think I'm very good at it. People probably think I'm smiling at them weirdly. But, hey, at least they won't think I'm talking to myself.

Then the pandemic came, and wearing masks felt like the holy grail. Now I could sing without having to pretend like I wasn't. As long as people were out of ear shot. Would it be so bad if I had to keep wearing a mask?

I'm nameless with a face covering. An unknown figure ambulating the world. No one sees or remembers me. One thing wrong and I will be forever gone from their minds. There is not a picture of me they can put with my name. My voice is muffled under a piece cloth, distorting whatever I say to their ears. I can pretend like they don't hear my nervous, stumbling words.

Or is it worst that I keep trying to hide my true self? I might have regained myself in anonymity. But the real ME remains a jewel locked up that no one can admire. I still live oppressed by the fears of disappointing because I care too much about what other people say of me. Therefore, I'm forced to ask myself, "Where did that little girl that didn't care go?"

That would rather let people laugh at her for the sake of keeping her own identity. That was confident in her ability to take on a challenge and be the victor. That was not constantly subverting herself and doubting every move.

I want to be her again.