The me you read here, is the real me.
While this is my anonymous space, I’m sure that if someone from my real world found this blog, they would recognise me.
I have a friend (also happens to be my cousin), who knows I’m here. My online friends know I’m here.
Sometimes I’m more me here as I share my struggles with anxiety disorder, my thoughts, quaint anecdotes, hopes and fears.
Sometimes I’m less me here as I have to contain those conversations to keep my reality anonymous.
I want to write about events in my life. I toy with changing names but still it feels too close to my heart. It feels so transparent that anyone could deduce who I spoke of. So I keep quiet. Remain vague. Deflect certain topics. Stay hidden.
Then I wonder if I’m protecting myself from strangers or people who know my reality.
Still. That’s a whole other tangent. And it’s not to imply I’d start to speak ill of people if I dropped my guard, only that sometimes I envy those who show themselves wholly with grace, kindness and confidence.
Sometimes I wish that could be me.