I sometimes fear being cheesy, showing the full genuineness of my intentions, thoughts, and feelings, as I might appear naive, gullible, or overdramatic, and might lose my treasured credibility. So I've made sure to dampen my expression with the objective disclaimer of skepticism, even when my soul is sparked with the brightest excitement, even when talking to others also excited about the same subject. For so long I have done this. I proclaim to want to do this no more on account of fear, or of its same another, shame.
I sometimes fear appearing as one unskilled or incapable, of showing the true range of my knowledge, and I speak aloud, with fake meekness, what I can best infer from what I know, from what I've learned from the conversation, and from where I feel that the other person wants to move the conversation towards. And I explicitly avoid the topics I disknow, veiling my ignorance, afraid of appearing ignorant, incapable, or unfit. And now sometimes I am even unsure of my own knowledge. I proclaim I want to do this no more on account of fear, or of its same another, shame.
I sometimes am lauded with praise or simple positive comments about my mental agility, my understanding, my physical capacity, or other such qualities, and I most often rebuke these comments with that fake modesty that I learned in elementary school, from my father, as I remember, and have been unable, or unwilling, rather, to dispose of since. Unwilling because my attitude, refined into a subtle persuasion, proves to capture others' admiration further, and my ego feeds on such attention. Unable because the need for attention and praise has become an addiction, because I know no other "polite" way to respond to praise, and because I secretly fear the opinions that might ensue in others in response to my raw opinion of myself, one perhaps haughtier and more insecure, the one unmasked by modesty and by a lifetime of training, unweathered by the true currents of the world, because I fear the alternative to such a constant in my life. I proclaim that I wish to no longer mask myself with fake modesty on account of fear, or of its same another, shame.
I sometimes fear appearing as one unskilled or incapable, of showing the true range of my knowledge, and I speak aloud, with fake meekness, what I can best infer from what I know, from what I've learned from the conversation, and from where I feel that the other person wants to move the conversation towards. And I explicitly avoid the topics I disknow, veiling my ignorance, afraid of appearing ignorant, incapable, or unfit. And now sometimes I am even unsure of my own knowledge. I proclaim I want to do this no more on account of fear, or of its same another, shame.
I sometimes am lauded with praise or simple positive comments about my mental agility, my understanding, my physical capacity, or other such qualities, and I most often rebuke these comments with that fake modesty that I learned in elementary school, from my father, as I remember, and have been unable, or unwilling, rather, to dispose of since. Unwilling because my attitude, refined into a subtle persuasion, proves to capture others' admiration further, and my ego feeds on such attention. Unable because the need for attention and praise has become an addiction, because I know no other "polite" way to respond to praise, and because I secretly fear the opinions that might ensue in others in response to my raw opinion of myself, one perhaps haughtier and more insecure, the one unmasked by modesty and by a lifetime of training, unweathered by the true currents of the world, because I fear the alternative to such a constant in my life. I proclaim that I wish to no longer mask myself with fake modesty on account of fear, or of its same another, shame.
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