I think people don't know me.

How it feels when you hide your real you as it is just so damn hard to feel different.

What when you realize, that you are different?

That somehow what you do, how you react, how you act, does not fit the normal norm?

And that it’s frightening to show pieces of yourself?

You try and people say: “oh, that is weird”, “oh, that is different”, “how did you come up with it”.

They may be curious, but for you it feels frightening, it feels like they don’t like it.

And as a consequence they don’t like you.

You start to hide. First only a bit, and later more of who you are.

You try to fit in and act in the hope that people accept you.

But what if that leads to you moving further and further away from you?

What if at some point you do not even know anymore who you are?

What you value, what you care for, what you like?

Shaped by so many others that you went empty in the process.

The art you produced.

The creations you explored.

The topics you studied.

The elements that you cared for.

Hidden behind a wall, hidden behind the mask you put on to hopefully, maybe to be seen one day.

But no one sees it, you hide it.

You carefully curate the experience others get.

Always making sure they tab into a perfect experience.

They get a smooth emotion, smooth experience.

They get what they want, and you?

You become them. You adapt. You fit into their mold.

But you yourself? Disappears in the people you adapt to.

Disappears in the hidden space not shared with a single soul.

You become lonely and depressed.

Simply, you depress yourself.

You depress all the quirky, funny, dark, weird things about yourself.

Those things you think nobody would accept.

So you have to hide them and let them be there.

Not showing them to the world.

But silently cultivating them.

Until one day,

the day where you realize:

Me out there is not me inside.

We are two totally different people.

We think differently, we act differently, we like different things.

But how to now explain the outer world that the inner world is the real and the outer world is the fake?

How does it feel to let the guards down and express who you are?

How does it feel to take baby steps of yourself?

Showing parts of yourself?

And you realize,

I showed parts of myself, but there is more.

The parts are only a piece of the puzzle.

It is not easy to show all there is.

And there is so much more.

There is a world not only hidden, but also complex.

Rich, nuanced, difficult to explain,

hidden behind the world and never explored.

What to do with it?

How to open it?

How to make sense of it?

How to bring to life what is there?

Will it ever work?

Will it ever come to light?

Or will it stay behind the door?

This substack is for those of you who feel the same.

Who are big, complex, weird and quirky, and who don’t know how to bring that to life.

Who are complex in themselves. Who feel so much, think so much, do so much.

And yet, get lost in the wideness of their own being.

Hiding it, pretending its not there, swallow it down.

Because you heard it over and over again - you do not brag of being clever.

And you do not feel it. You just feel different.

And all you do is not working, not fitting in, not being there.

You are different and while hiding and masking helped you so far,

there is something missing -

you!

You, who is weird and funny, loud and childish, serious and analytical, focused and scattered,

you who is all and nothing, all within one person, you who feels so much, and thinks so much,

you who is just all over the place and still in search for answers,

you who is looking for answers, the answers to all these questions that have stacked up over time,

and that do not have an answer,

an answer that is there to be lived upon,

why are we here and why is the experience so different?

why do I want something and still cannot get it?

why am I building cages for myself?

why am I enthusiastic and the next day forgot about it?

why do I hold multiple truth in myself at the same time?

why is there never something absolute, all is relative?

why is there one thing and one career and one direction when you see 1000?

why is the mind racing and thinking and analyzing the smallest things over and over again?

why does it feel so different? And why are there so little people who get it?

why is communicating so difficult in words in real-time but it works well in writing?

why are there things that are great, but you still cannot do them. Your body strikes?

Why are there all these experienes that you tell someone and they look at you with a blank stare and says: “What? That is just so weird!”

And for you, that is your normal experience.

You experience it over and over again and yet,

you have not found an answer yet.

You go into forum after forum,

you try to find an answer,

and once you find it,

you question it all.

Me, gifted? ADHD, autism und else,

really?

That is not me,

that is that weird name, that is boxing in, that is something for others.

And who wants to hear that you are gifted. Isn’t that only for those super smart kids?

Those Einsteins, and Mozarts and Marie Curie’s of this world?

How can I ever put myself in the same group with these people?

That is ridiculous. I cannot do that.

And so you keep hiding again.

Pushing aside what seems so obvious.

Reading, researching, analyzing behind the hidden wall.

Could this be me? Is there something about it?

It fits to a t, but really, it feels like putting myself on a pedestal,

giving myself a label I have not earned,

I have not created anything special,

I have not a deficit,

I am not that special,

And you keep pushing it away.

Until the next cycle arises,

and you realize, it is here again,

and again,

I recognize its makings in me,

in my breathing,

in my crazy rides,

in my pulling and pushing,

in my superpowers and my kryptonites,

in my power and my anxiety,

it shows in my super focus hours,

and in my scattered mind of 1000 ideas,

it shows in my feeling of layers over layers,

in a room full of people,

but no ability to talk about it,

it shows in the excitement for a project,

and the abandonment the moment someone speaks about,

the moment someone criticizes it,

the moment someone praises it,

the moment someone suggests a change,

the moment there is any kind of act upon that idea,

it dies as if it never happened,

just by talking about it,

the weirdness of touching,

sometimes needed,

sometimes a pain,

the waking up and already thinking and solving,

the ability to jump into all and nothing,

the ability to create and build,

and yet the self-doubt of questioning it all.

There is no real answer,

and yet there is hope.

That these feelings, these expressions, these thoughts,

that they find an anchor, they find a note.

They find a room, where they can be.

Not only hidden behind the walls,

but in the outside,

shown to the world.

That they are seen and they are valued.

That there is value in showing them.

And someone benefits.

For that is that Substack,

for you to be seen.

And for us to find answers.

To the mysteries of our being.