When I find myself in situations where I’m allowed to be myself, I notice how my discourse changes in my writings. My inner life is allowed to breathe, and the landscape of my soul becomes more vivid and expansive. By virtue of this expansion, it becomes more alluring. Strangely, when I’m not concerned with anything besides myself and conveying my inner life unperturbed by others, this allure draws people in my proximity. I then tend to find myself at a crossroads. I have learned not to let anyone cross my borders without a meticulous and often undetectable process of selection. Because of that, I’m sometimes inclined to test people. Yet, I try to do so while keeping every interaction genuine. Although I am a perceiver (INTP), I can’t deny I judge their responses more harshly and quickly than I would ever wish to be judged. In my view, I employ the right system of reference in my judgment. However, I must admit, I hate being analysed, especially in day-to-day interactions; it irks me profoundly.

When I am given the space to be myself, I have no desire to prove anything—and I mean this in the most positive way, unrelated to lack of productivity, hence everything feels more genuine as the walls of the fortress retreat in the ground. There is still a surrounding portal, veil-like, between my world and everything else, seemingly transparent, but in actuality having a transformative function, of shaping perspective, both ways: Representations of the other gaze in, seeing what they wish; depending on how healed or emotionally aware they are, they might see everything warped by projections or get closer to my meaning. Likewise, I look out, seeing the world through my filter, penetrative or transformative, surface-shattering, depth-piercing, death-defying.

When I’m in an environment where it’s unclear whether it’s sustainable for my true self, I’m sometimes (not always) ready to show up as myself, even if it means being misunderstood and subsequently irritated. What feels best is being unperturbed by others’ interpretations. My problem is that I can always see the world from a multitude of perspectives, which is both a blessing and a curse. This requires me to make an effort to pick the perspective most aligned with my self-concept and established set of values and beliefs, and then stand by it, regardless of the other perspectives I can give voice to. Life is sometimes about what you choose to pay attention to.

There have been times in my life when I couldn’t write—not because my inspiration or creativity deserted me, but because they were suppressed, captive, muted, just as I felt suppressed, captive, muted. During these times, a false self replaced me, influenced by external projections, reacting to others’ impulses, stepping into a role that was as distant as possible from the traits embodied by the people I disliked around me. How do I explain this without sounding like I’m drowning in the fluctuations of being? Or without it sounding like I haven’t embraced my shadow self? Can I even claim that, with certainty, to myself?