What do you think of me?

While watching the episode “Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda” on SATC (that’s Sex and The City for those uninformed) a while ago, I was struck by an interesting point. In that episode, the main character lied to her boyfriend about her having an abortion before because she was afraid of what he might think of her, afraid that he will think less of her, afraid that the perfect picture he has of her will be tarnished. In other words, she was afraid of being judged by him.

Which is interesting. Because that’s what a lot of us are afraid of when facing society, no? Why are we so afraid to be judged? And why do we judge?

And it doesn’t matter if it was a stranger on the street or your best friend. It doesn’t matter if one doesn’t know who you are and you will probably never see him/her again . Neither does it matter the other practically grew up with you. You still wonder what the perception of the other party is. You refrain from saying or acting a certain way because you do not want to smudge the image already formed in the person’s mind.

I think it is because of this fear that explains part of my nature of being such a private person. I chose who I tell my secrets too. I chose who I tell my daily life to. I chose who I share my happiness and sadness with.

Perhaps I’m afraid when I tell you I went out clubbing; you would think I am a party animal. Perhaps I’m afraid if I told you I studied, you would think of me as a nerd. Perhaps I fear you think I’m arrogant and no longer care about home if I told you I started working here. Perhaps I fear you think I am a failure if I told you where I work.

Neverending list. When can we finally be truly ourselves? What does that even mean?