I don’t want to perform anymore

Everything is a performance. One result of my being bored out of my mind while being out in public was that I people-watch. I can’t help but notice how everything was a performance, and everyone’s doing it. From the way people dress to how they conduct themselves, everyone was portraying some sort of aesthetic they had seen online, an influencer, a celebrity, or an in-person group they belonged to or aspired to belong to. People were performing in real life to post about it online. I’d be hard pressed to identify a person in the streets who looked interesting, unique, or individualistic. I can’t help but see the rising homogeneity. Everyone’s buying the same kind of clothes, styling them the same way, from the same platform they were told they could buy them. Someone’s trying to look like their favorite idol even though the styling was questionable outside of the sound stage. Post hype sneakers all looked the same with limited colorways. Some speak and act in some weird IRL internet interactions. Everything was cut from the same cookie cutter as something else. And there was a kind of out-of-body experience doing this. I don’t know where I place myself in all of this. The truth is, I’m tired of keeping up with the pretense because it’s too tedious to be hassled with.

True self: listening to my body and going for what I like. I’m a recovering perfectionist. Sometimes, if I need proof that I’m not meant to be perfect, I just turn inward and feel my body. It’s not working well, from my scoliosis, being low on every vital, and having scars from the PTB that once resided in it. I get called weak as shit because I get sick easily, get cold easily, don’t get too hot, don’t sweat (which was alarming), and get dizzy for several unexplained reasons. But from this machine came worlds, stories, and ideas, so I try to take care of it as much as possible. That meant dressing appropriately for the weather, grabbing a jacket when I know it’s cold for me, despite everyone else feeling fine. It meant carrying an umbrella for a drizzle when everyone could just ignore it or wear a cap. Most styling would go out the door except for classic, tried and tested looks. I’m not experimental because I couldn’t be bothered with it. I wanted to allocate my thinking and decision-making less on the clothes I want to wear, and more on the excitement of my day ahead or the activities I’m going to do. I wear clothes to protect myself, physically and mentally, as they functionally should. If I like things, I wear or use them. I created this category in my head, a personal aesthetic, something I call ‘the things I like’. That’s what I stick to and try to be.

I am not owed of the results: perfection and anxiety. I was told that I’m not owed the result of anything. My careful, detailed overplanning of every scenario to prevent myself (and others) from disappointment and me changing myself so that I’d be more palatable to others were all the results of my maladaptive way of coping with my anxiety. The result is beyond my control. I’m not owed the results of other people’s impression and judgment of me, and of the subsequent events that will happen as I go on with my day-to-day life. I’m not owed of the perception of others of me that doesn’t align with how I execute my plans, therefore there was no need to perform. I just have to be honest with myself. I like who I’ve become, and I know I’m okay with my self, with the choices I decided to go through and the things I hold dear to my heart. From that, I find the cracks in my anxiety. Liking myself, with all my flaws and errors, in both the past, present, and uncontrollable future, was the antidote to anxiety. I should spend more time with the things I like and block out negative words over my preferences. There’s no need to perform and feed the anxiety. I just have to impress me.

Bad things will happen. I just need a safe space. I know none of these are foolproof. One day, when my anxiety was already at its breaking point, when I had internalized the mean words said to me, that I’ll do something so trivial that it would be the last straw on the camel’s back. I will have a mental breakdown. I will cry. I will get angry at myself, and then I’d be hopeless and lost again. It’s not a matter of if, it’s when. Just like how our body would often get a fever and flu, or even just be under the weather, our brains could be sick too. We should be more attentive when the brain gets wonky, because the brain controls everything. Bad things will happen, and we need a safe space to retreat to, with robust structures for support, and a lot of self-love. To be honest, I haven’t yet reached the stage where I have an effective post-mental breakdown healing routine or a first aid kit for an ailing mental health. However, there were some things that I was able to do with average to great success. I would feel it within a limited time, acknowledge it, and let it out through journaling or with a support system. In thinking about it deeply in hindsight, it helps to identify the early signs, the triggers, and the fire exits. I never thought that thinking of ways to improve my reaction to things, I find that doing that makes me feel awful. Then comes the affirmations and the realignment. I would look for joy in novel things or going back to the things I love. I’d continue doing that until the next bad thing. It sounded asinine to not be able to get out of the loop, but where one can see a circle, I see a charted upward progress. I have a documentation of the grace I give myself when I don’t feel great, and the glory of the world when I do. I feel who I basically am – a human. You can’t perform when you’re not feeling well. I can be well when I don’t have to perform.

Are you entertained?

7/28/2025