One April Morning

I am always surprised when somebody is taken in by my facade.

Mark Twain once said, "What a wee little part of a person’s life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself." People describe me as calm, organised, responsible, rational, nice, kind. Of course, I know better.

Yet despite my flaws, people actually seem to like me. Not everybody, naturally, but enough people. My family, partner, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, some strangers. And I wonder, do they like me for, or in spite of, my flaws? Or only because I have them so well hidden?

I worry about it, because I have learned that self-preservation comes with a price, in the form of a painstakingly maintained veil, an ever-present layer between us and the people in our lives. Essentially, the presence of that layer is the difference between like and love. Because you cannot love a veneer, no matter how shiny and pretty and enviable it is. 

I am afraid to show my failures, to own them as part of my life story. As surprised as I am when people admire me - when they buy the facade - it's what I want. It's what I strive for.

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Sometimes, inspiration lives in the most unlikely places.

I have reached a point in my life where news of other people's milestones fill me with jealousy. It's silly, I know. I have everything I could want, and any delay is of my own choosing: a tediously long degree, for one, further impeded by my indecisiveness and a penchant for procrastination.

Yet the people around me are launching into new spheres of life; graduating, moving overseas, jetting off on travel sabbaticals, buying houses, getting married, having babies. 

Of late, one thing has been rousing the green-eyed monster more than ever: the engagements. Childishly, I feel I deserve it more than they do. We have been together longer, we love each other more, it's not fair. It's not that I really want to be married yet, or even plan a wedding. And I am definitely in no rush for the things that come afterwards: a white picket fence, children. (Although I would love a puppy...) 

It is the romanticism of being engaged that captures my heart. It is the promise of being together, two lives converging and intertwining, the sweet spot between making the commitment and locking it in for good.