(Title: Bastille – Fake It)
Isn’t it strange, how you really can’t tell how someone’s feeling just by looking at them, or even just by superficially talking to them? We can only ever know as much as that person wants us to know.
It’s quite a common thought that people with anxiety and depression really do make the best actors, because they practice every single day.
Help me turn a blind eye // days and nights we lost to weakness
Just sitting in the best coffee shop in the world (yeah okay, slight bias there…) [Hoxton North, Harrogate] and looking around – there’s all sorts of people here, doing all sorts of things. I mean, I’m sat here blogging, there’s a family sat with the kids playing some form of Mortal Kombat game on the iPad whilst the parents take care of something on their phones, people sitting having brunch, coffee, tea, yet I have no idea whatsoever what anyone else is thinking. Likewise, no-one else can see what I’m thinking, either.
I’m sort of smiling, a rather contented look, as I guess on the surface, I actually am. I’m in my favourite place, I’ve got some great coffee, and I’m a comfortable temperature. Bubbling under the surface is all sorts, however. My dad’s going into hospital tomorrow for a knee replacement, so I’m worried about that, I’ve got appointments next week, I’m back at work as well tomorrow, I’ve got so damn much that I need to get done, and I just realised I completely messed the date of my psych assessment up, so I have to try and rearrange that, and I’m petrified that they’ll say that because I missed it, I can’t have another opportunity. Plus there’s the overbearing feeling that I can’t do this, I can’t cope with this, and it’s all going to go horribly wrong.
Oh crikey, I never realised, you never seem depressed!
Trust me, there’s a reason for that… and it’s nothing personal… but I don’t want you to know! (Read my previous blog, Honesty is Mostly the Best Policy, for more on this subject.)
Acting isn’t something I want to do. It’s insanely tiring, and makes me feel fake. But equally, it makes me feel good enough to show my face in public, and makes me feel that it’s what other people want me to be. Whether it’s true or not doesn’t really matter to me, either – there’s only ever a real subset of people that I ever actually show my true self to. Though I’m trying to increase that – it’s always scary that you’ll get burned – and when that happens, trust me… it hurts like hell, as it’s people rejecting someone that you actually are – instead of rejecting the person that you just wish you were all the time.
How strange does this sound? Probably quite!
Don’t turn over, turn over the page,
We should rip it straight out,
And then let’s do our very best to fake it.
Peace and love,