the person before the sentence

I'm a very authentic person.

Right?

That's kinda what I say to most people when I meet them

It's what I've been saying for so long

Almost sounds like a fact.

But if I'm being honest

I don't just speak to new people.

I edit myself in real time

Like a script being rewritten whilst it's being performed.

Every sentence goes through a mental filter I've built

What sounds right?

What lands well?

What version of me are they gonna understand?

And I answer all that before I finish the thought.

I mask so much to the point where the mask feels more familiar than my face.

I've laughed before something was even remotely funny

Nodded before I fully agreed.

Said 'yeah I know exactly what you mean' when it wasn't even what I meant.

How performative of me.

Not because I'm fake

But because I already know I'm gonna be received.

Socially awkward black girl who can't make eye contact to save her life.

And that's the issue.

Because when you get good at that

Really good.

You stop noticing when you're doing it

It stops feeling like performance.

It just feels like…you.

And that's kinda terrifying.

If I'm constantly adjusting myself

Then what part of me actually gets to exist?

Unfiltered by the way.

I catch it sometimes.

Mid sentence, thought, ugly laugh

In between opening my mouth and making a sound

There's a pause.

Wait.

Would I still say this if no one was listening?

And I don't always like the answer

I got more comfortable being understood by people than being honest

More comfortable, being agreeable

Than being real.

And the worst part is it actually works.

People like you more.

Conversations flow easier.

You fit in.

Just about perfectly I reckon

Fitting in isn't the same as being known.

And I think I confused the two.

Because I can be liked by everyone in the room

And still feel like no one actually met me.

The real me.

The girl that won't shut up about what album she's listening to.

The girl who has her head in a book most days.

The girl who daydreams out her window.

The girl who loathes small talk with every fibre of her being.

I know who I am.

Why am I so scared to let people see her?

So I don't even know how you define authenticity

Because I don't think it's being unfiltered

Yeah you can say whatever comes on your mind

But that doesn't even feel possible

Not when I'm aware of every glance,

Every reaction,

Every shift in tone

Before I've even finished speaking.

Maybe authenticity isn't about removing the performance in me

It's this.

This moment right here

Hand on heart

Where I admit that I am performing.

That even now,

I'm choosing the pauses carefully, placing each word deliberately, trying to make this land.

This is a performance.

And you're feeling it like it's the truth.

So maybe that's it.

Maybe authenticity isn't the absence of performance.

It's knowing it's there and not hiding it anymore.

And…scene.