The real you

I have a pretty good idea of who the real me is. Not “good” like accurate, but good in the sense that I think about it a lot. It’s probably a load of shit. People are terrible at determining the real them.

One thing you should never do is try to tell people about the real you. Better to show than to tell, because sometimes the act of telling actually disproves your point. For example, talking about how you don’t care what people think of you. If you don’t care, then why do I have to hear about it?

Mostly you should avoid telling people about the real you because what you are actually doing is telling people about the you of your dreams. They can see the difference, even if you can’t. Laying your dreams bare is kind of embarrassing. And often the difference between you and the you of your dreams is so vast that you just end up looking stupid, like if you argued that Hamlet’s whole problem was that he was gay and in love with his dad.

It’s good to have an idea of the real you because it’s good to have dreams. But you have to realize that people don’t care about your dreams. Maybe they care about you, but chances are they care about the you that actually exists.

Who knows what that you is all about? Not knowing makes being liked kind of wild and goes to show you that everyone dies alone.



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2 responses to “The real you

  1. Nadia M

    Alex, I always enjoy your blog.
    This was fantastic.
    Hope you’ve been well.

  2. Alex Molotkow

    Thanks, Nadia! Hope you’re well, too.

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