I remember in the past, I was this uptight, prim and proper, quiet, perfectionist girl. I wanted everything to be perfect. I gave all that I can to make sure my image was spotless, my work was iterated countless times and the result of nightless nights.
Over the years I found myself building up defences of 'I don't really care' and 'whatever' in place of the mental drain that it takes to keep up with the expectations of myself and the expectation of what people have of me. Then again, does it mean that I have truly reformed, or does that tiny part of me hide in the deep abyss of my brain, wishing that it didn't exist?
Sometimes I think the malleable personality that I have also means that I'm never really true to myself. Am I the sensitive soul that holds on tightly to memories and sentimentalities, or someone who is able to brutally let things go without batting an eyelid? I don't know.
As much as I try to do and convince myself of the latter, I can't help but that I'm betraying who I have been all this time (or think of myself to be). Truly some sort of a cognitive dissonance.
Life is simple. I want to be happy and be carefree without all these difficult thoughts that can never be resolved.