People Might Not Like You. And That’s Okay.

For most of my life, I've carried one irrational fear: that everyone I know secretly hates me. Not just that I want to be liked — I want to walk into every room and be clapped for, like I just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

Pretty high standard for myself, huh? Big shoes to fill. I know.

.....

I don't know exactly when it started. Maybe it goes all the way back to childhood. I didn't have many friends growing up. I didn't socialise much. I didn't live with my mum. I never knew my dad, either — not what he looked like, not what he sounded like. No photo, no story, nothing. Just a name.

I used his last name for the first few years of my life — until my grandmother had a better idea and I was made to change it to my mum's side of family. Apparently, they wanted nothing to do with that man. God knows what he did. I don't. And honestly? I think I'm better off not knowing.

I've never dared to look him up. Part of me is dying to dig into his records, but another, stronger part insists I don't. Maybe he has a family now — a perfect one. Two kids: a son and a daughter. A family he loves. A family he wakes up early for, works hard for, and comes home every night with food, rented DVDs of the latest movies, affection, and maybe even bedtime stories. All the things I wished for when I was a kid.

Because if that's true, it would only confirm my worst fear: that he didn't want me. So, in my twisted little reality, I believe my own biological father hates me. If he didn't, wouldn't he have found a way to reach out by now?

I know it sounds silly, but that's how my mind works. It plays tricks on me. Get used to it (but it's super fun observing from outside so you're in for a treat!).

.....

So, I adapted. I became the agreeable and outgoing person. The funny one. The easy one. The one who sends a double-text just to make sure I wasn't annoying you the first time.

It's hard at the beginning. I've always been an introvert — a quiet kid in the corner. But over time it's getting easier. If I made people smile, it meant I was safe. It meant they were comfortable enough to be around me and that they wouldn't leave. Sometimes I wish my father had seen me. Only if he'd ever known how funny and charming I am (the mask I wear), maybe he wouldn't have left.

But the thing is — it's not possible to be likeable all the time. I get in bad moods. I get tired. I go quiet. And that scares people away. But people don't say anything and that's the problem — if they said nothing, my brain automatically directs to the assumption that they hate me. I know it doesn't make sense, but that's who I am. I'm built this way — the anxious over-thinker by default.

There are people who like pineapple on pizza. Some absolutely hate it. Some feel nothing about the whole thing. But pineapple doesn't stop being a pineapple just because someone hates them, right? Why can't I just be like that? Why can't I just be...okay with being disliked?

....

Things I've come to realise — after years of overthinking every text, analysing every emoji, and all the uncomfortable silence, is that not everyone who doesn't show affection hates me. Some people are just busy — minding their own business and being tired with everything around themselves, or even bad at expressing things. Just like I am.

Some are okay with showing affection towards their loved one in public — kissing each other at the mall or on the subway. Some feel weird doing that in front of everyone. But that doesn't mean they don't like kissing.

Silence isn't always a verdict. Sometimes it's just silence. I won't lie — I don't like that answer. I want feedback. Validation. Stars, hearts, and a glowing review. But guess what, I've survived moments where I didn't get any of that.

There were times I didn't chase approval. Didn't send the follow-up messages. I let the world spin for a day without me going out of my way into a people-pleasing routine just to feel okay. And the world didn't collapse.

And that was when I realised how tired I've been. I realised I have all these personalised well-made personalities tailored for everyone just to keep them happy. None of them really felt like myself. But I've made people happy. But at what cost? What's the price? My own peace. I've learned to let things go.

But it's still a work in progress. Some days I slip. Sometimes I let the worst in me out. But other days? I sit with the silence — making small talks with it even. I let people be themselves. I let them be neutral. I remind myself: it's not my job to be everyone's favourite. It's my job to like who I am — especially when no one is clapping.

.....

I won't always be on my best day making people laugh. I won't always be everyone's favourite. But being liked isn't everything. Being understood — that's rare. And being at peace with yourself? That's the real magic trick and the one that honestly deserves a standing ovation.

No, I don't walk into every room expecting an applause anymore. But I still walk in. I still show up. As myself. And if no one claps? That's okay. I used to care, but not anymore.

Share This