I keep hearing how I am a confident, lovely woman. How I was once a shy, timid girl who has bloomed into a woman who knows what she wants and how to get there. People are surprised at the adult Taiba.
Surprised at me?.
The woman who prefers calling herself a young girl because the thought of growing older terrifies her. The woman who constantly doubts herself and questions why she is talking to random strangers but making long-lasting relationships is a foreign concept to her.
I can’t even make myself phone my mum back after a couple of missed calls or have a group of friends more than two people. I am blubbering mess. Chaos.
I am not a confident person and I don’t understand why everyone keeps telling me I am. I hate my job. I hate talking to these random people constantly. Forcing a smile on my face when all I want to do is hide from the world. I’ll second guess myself when my media teacher asks me a question even though I know I know the answer. I want to fade into the background and just stop existing for a while.
If people even heard the cluttered thoughts inside my head, they would realise that it is all a pretence. That while I am talking to the Paperchase’s cashier, my mind goes into a frenzy. “She doesn’t want to know about you working in Subways. Your voice is cringed, just shut up”.
It’s all pretence