I most often project a very confident, sometimes bratty version of myself. Most people don’t see how fast the facade disappears. How flimsy it truly is. If you look me straight in the eyes and say “is that so?” I will immediately start squirming and doubling down on whatever asinine point I made, nervous that you’ll press me further but wishing you would. Then if you ask me why I’m fidgeting so much or why I can’t look you in the eye … it’s all over. Tell me to continue what I was talking about when you know my head has gone completely blank. You watch me look down at my hands in embarrassment, my cheeks growing hot and little tears welling in my eyes. You coo softly and reach out to lift up my chin, looking deep into my eyes. “There’s my good girl.”
