To Be Seen

The air feels thinner every minute with the weight of expectation in the room. Smiles are present but not in their eyes, only in words in hushed tones spoken away from the listening ears does the chest breathe easier - even if only for a moment.

And then the second passes.

Conversation flows, drinks are shared, laughter is heard. In these instances, the dinners are almost manageable. Shoulders ease against the onslaught of questions, attention directed elsewhere. Cut, chew, swallow. Repeated cycles to protect from the urge to run – or speak. But polite nods do little to desist the more insistent of conversational partners.

There is always an opinion to be had, an experience to share – behaviour to monitor. Forever conscious of every movement; the fingering of a wine glass, the straightness of a back, the position of the elbows. Perfect. Exhausting. Suffocating to the point of self-doubt. To have faith in words and actions is the belief to be worthy.

And worthiness does not come easy to most. To speak with confidence, share beliefs carelessly, is daunting at best. Even worse to speak of inner-most feelings – views can be altered, sense of self cannot. A different face for every occasion but none that capture a complete picture, suited to all and yet no one. Praise given for a word, not a sentence; love shared for a rhyme, not a song. Appreciation can only be appreciated when earned.

The atmosphere strains to keep up with the faltering mood. Food and conversation inspire nausea, yet still they flow. Along for the ride amongst every other aspiring patron, united knowing they won’t ever be enough. Unconsenting competition – entered by the parents, never their children. Yet it is never the parents who bare the brunt. Unconcerned with the results so long as their child is more capable. Not thinking of the others pitted against to not succeed.

How tiring it is to hear of an agreeable accomplishment in others, when a role reversal would mean failure. Sometimes it is better to hide when the feedback would always be broken. No one to share success with, no one to reassure. Although, belief in reassurance is another hurdle to jump. One that is tied to self-worth in ways that are almost impossible to untangle.

For the children, whispered words of support are too weak to oppose the overwhelming voice to try harder. Be better. Be different. To act without mistake, to never be seen trying – the ingrained embarrassment washes over otherwise. Learning is applauded but only when complete. What matters are the ends, not the means. Only sharing that which earns favour, individually tailored. Pleasing everyone with omission, but never pleasing overall.

The voices urge louder suddenly, a familiar name spoken in question. Forced to talk of achievements and updates, future goals, and prospects. Toy with the meal and bide time; assess the listeners for their preference. Know how to pull the strings to keep their attention away. Deep breath and express everything they wish to hear. Customise life until it is a dream.

Maybe then, it can be believed.

A pat on the shoulder, a hand on the knee – success is bittersweet. The battle is won but energy is flagging. A constant projection drains more than just the mouth that speaks. Isolation, the only solace from the all-encompassing greed.

The clock is mocking from its perch above the table. Far too long remains before a retreat can’t be considered an insult. The plate is nearly empty – the excuse for not joining the discussion dwindling. The desire to do away with false flowery words is strong, but the fear is stronger.

Fear of being known.

To be seen without walls, experienced without filter – that is the most terrifying of all. Knowing that judgement lies beneath interested eyes, a quick tongue soon to follow. Even that which is good can still be improved. To expose all is to expect hurt, and sometimes weakness is easier.

Cowardice is hardly a crime, but still it is punished with loneliness. Deep down there is a desire to be seen, but only by those who will accept without hesitation. Without vulnerability it is impossible to find, and so the seclusion continues.

Sometimes the exhaustion is so present, there’s a want to do away with playing nice. To stand up and speak without thinking. Remove the veil and never return. But spontaneity always brings nerves, and the fleeting feeling passes.

Because there is nothing to say.

To determine the reality from the façade means understanding the product of the environment. That sort of introspection takes effort and struggle, far more than what is currently possessed. But it takes strength to own up to the truth, look it square in the face.

‘I don’t know who I am.’

It is freeing to admit – no matter the consequence, no matter who cares, no matter who sees.

A hard push away from the table and everyone stares. Women tut disapprovingly and male faces line with anger. The plate is empty, the clock strikes, the table is silent. There’s no need to be here, to be subjected to this interrogation. A complete farce orchestrated for the entertainment of others playing on the insecurities of the vulnerable. Walk away from the expectations, walk away from the standards, walk away from the comparisons.

An exit is made and conversation restarts, there’s surely confusion but they’ll be disappointed. An explanation will not be forth coming. It serves them right to be on the receiving end, though it is doubtful whether any changes will be made. It hardly matters when no longer a participant in their games.

No one is owed anymore, and the difference is drastic – joy is hard to hide when it’s real. To be unknown is frightening but to knowingly be unknown is a relief. It is control, it is acceptance.

It is a hand on the wrist and warm eyes that followed out of the room.

Being unknown isn’t lonely when there are others just the same.