we are being sold insecurities

i remember a time when i believed that the way to survive in this world was to tuck away the parts of myself that felt too raw, too unpredictable, or too genuine. it began quietly, almost imperceptibly, with the subtle suggestions of friends, family, and the society that surrounded me. a careless remark in passing, a half-joking comment about being “too emotional” or “too complicated,” slowly seeped into my mind and redefined my self-worth.

i started to measure my value by the ease with which i could silence my doubts and suppress my feelings, believing that my emotional depth was something to be trimmed down to fit an unspoken standard of “normalcy.” the notion that we must all conform to a narrow blueprint of what it means to be stable, agreeable, and effortlessly charming was so pervasive that i began to see my own heart—a heart that beat too fervently for life, that questioned too much, that felt too deeply—as a defect rather than a gift. over time, i realized that these insecurities were not born from within but were carefully, relentlessly sold to us by the people around us, the culture we inhabit, and the quiet, relentless pressure to be nothing more than a consumable product of societal approval.

i think about the countless conversations where someone, perhaps without malice, remarked on how we should “lighten up” our moods or “not take things so seriously,” as if the act of feeling was itself an inconvenience. i recall times when i tried to share my dreams or fears and was met with nods that quickly faded into silence, leaving me with the impression that vulnerability was less a bridge to connection and more a flaw to be corrected. the insinuation that emotional intensity was a burden—a complication to the otherwise straightforward pursuit of success and contentment—left an indelible mark on my self-perception. as a result, i learned to cloak my true emotions in a veneer of nonchalance, convincing myself that by diluting my feelings, i was making myself more acceptable, more digestible to the world. yet in that process, i lost a part of me: the wild, unedited expression of my inner life.