I have this guilt when someone says they like me.
I would often ask myself what part of me do they like and most of the time, I would think it's the parts of me that aren't real.
Maybe it's the things I've tried so hard to be good at, the ones I'm too insecure to admit are flawed.
Maybe they like the version of me that’s always composed, always knowing what to say, always put together.
But what if they saw the cracks beneath the surface?
What if they realized that the person they admire is just the result of careful effort, of rehearsed words and well-hidden fears?
I feel guilty because I wonder if I’m deceiving them, even when I’m not trying to.
I don’t want to be liked for something I forced myself to be.
I want to be seen... the raw, imperfect, unpolished version of me.
But the thought of that is terrifying.
What if they don’t like what’s real?
