ˈvəl-n(ə-)rə-bəl

When I was in my undergraduate study, I used to think that I did a pretty good job on letting people assumed that I was very keen on doing self-disclosure. Some of my friends might be amazed on the amount of information I could let out, unknowing to the fact that it was just a tiny piece of information that I felt safe to share. Maybe a part of that was caused by this sole fact; I love categorising things. Things good enough to share, things that should be kept in the basement, things that have to be shared, and things that can be shared when the time is right. When I decided to share something, trust me, it had gone through deliberate analysing process, because when it came to disclosing something, one thing that you should know about me is I never blurt out things. I think all the things that I have said.

I love letting people make countless assumptions about me. Caring, nice, soft-spoken, go-getter, full of positive vibes; the top 5. I never correct them because I believe in one thing; you are entitled to create your own judgments and your cognitive biases that create those judgments are authentically yours, so I think any efforts that I make is simply useless. Over time, I might check in with some friends and acquaintances; you can think it as doing random sampling to check whether your method works well. Hiding behind who I really am is the nicest thing to do and what I can do best throughout my entire life.

But lately, I have been thrown aback by the fact of one simple thinking, “What if someone know the truth that lies behind all this mask? All the smiles, improper jokes, politically incorrect stuffs you do to keep people entertained; they were all just many parts of the fortress you build so tall, so no one, not even your closest ones, can access who you really are?”

I do not like to tell stories about myself. Describing who I am, what am I feeling, or crying when I finally tell what I’ve been going through; it’s all a conundrum of experiences that I am utterly confused to label the level of discomfort. So, I try to detach myself because mixture of confusions can create sensations of delirium. Therefore, if I have to take a role on friendships; I love being an active listener. The more I can keep myself in the dark, the more I feel strangely safe. I have this joke that I love to say to myself, “If I have $100 for every person asks me to be more open, I’d be rich by the end of this week.”

Task unlocked: let your guards down.