Here’s something I’ve been thinking about lately how everyone is out here trying to say the right thing instead of the real thing. It’s like we all accidentally enrolled in this invisible PR school where every sentence needs to be market tested, audience appropriate, and pleasantly beige. And the minute someone shows up speaking unfiltered or voicing up an inconvenient truth,they get treated like they walked into a quiet library with a boombox blasting.
You ever notice this?
The world claims it loves authenticity, but only the kind that comes in recyclable packaging with a soft aesthetic and a caption about self-care.
The real real?
The kind that shows people the things they try so hard not to admit?
Oh, no. That gets exiled like it said something obscene at a dinner party.
We’ve built a culture where people apologize for things they don’t even feel sorry for, agree with opinions they don’t believe, and pretend neutrality when their whole soul is yelling. It’s social gymnastics. We’ve become Olympians at it. The “right” thing is whatever causes the least friction, the least consequence, the least emotional turbulence.
When you constantly choose the “right” thing, you slowly become the wrong version of yourself.
It’s wild,people will say all the trendy, polished, socially nutritious statements, but the moment someone comes in with a blunt “yeah actually this is what I really think,” everyone suddenly morphs into a philosopher, a therapist, and a UN diplomat rolled into one. They act like honesty is a biohazard.
And look, I’m not saying speak without thinking,I get it. We need to know when to talk. Basic sense, hello?
There’s timing, there’s awareness, there’s context.
But being pretentious? Performing personality? Saying things just because they sound respectable in a hypothetical TED Talk?
Nahh. Not my thing. Not even a little.
The ones who speak in truths instead of templates?
They’re the ones who get tagged as “harsh,” “problematic,” “intense,” or my favorite,“doing the most.” As if authenticity is some extracurricular activity for which you need a permission slip signed by five adults and a notary.
We live in a world where people fear being disliked more than they fear being dishonest.
And that’s exactly why realness feels so rare.
We’re the generation that can detect performative energy like a metal detector at the airport. We can tell when someone is “supporting” something just because they’re terrified of their comments section. We can feel when someone’s “authenticity” has been curated by a marketing team of four and a ring light.
What we actually need to admire lowkey, deeply,is courage.
Anyone can be agreeable.
But speaking truth in an era of filters?
That's something to appreciate, hands down.
We’ve seen too many “relatable” influencers who aren’t actually relatable, too many public apologies written by lawyers, too many “I feel your pain” statements from people who wouldn’t even recognize our pain if it sat next to them on a plane and asked to borrow their charger.
So when someone shows up who is actually real,messy, unpolished, contradictory, and human,it hits different.
It hits threatening.
Because realness demands that other people confront what they’ve been performing.
Truth isn’t comfortable.
It’s not cute.
It doesn’t always land softly,sometimes it lands like a meteor.
We say we want authenticity, but what we really want is authenticity that flatters us.
We want honesty, but only if it agrees with us.
We want “speak your mind,” but with the unwritten rule,as long as it aligns with mine.
Real people break that rule.
That’s why they get hated.
Not because they’re wrong, but because they remind others that pretending is optional.
The “right” thing might get applause, but the “real” thing gets remembered.
History isn’t made by the agreeable.
It’s made by the ones who walk into a room and shift the air,who say something that sticks like a shard of glass in the conscience.
The ones who break the algorithm of politeness with a sentence that tastes like honesty instead of artificial sweetness.
And yeah, they get hated first.
Misunderstood second.
Respected eventually.
But they sleep better at night than the entire cast of agreeable sayers combined.
So write this down somewhere:
If being real makes people uncomfortable,
that says more about their relationship with truth
than your relationship with the world.
And if being honest gets you hated,
you’re probably saying the thing everyone else was too scared to say out loud.
Which,let’s be honest,is kind of heroic, in that cinematic, slow-motion, soundtrack-thrumming-in-the-background type of way.
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