Growing Up Between Versions of Myself
I learned early
that the world hands out templates
before it learns your name.
It teaches posture before thought,
answers before questions,
How to belong
before how to exist.
Approval becomes a skill.
So does restraint.
There is a version of the self
designed for recognition—
polished, predictable,
easy to place.
And another that resists definition,
not out of rebellion,
But because it was never meant
to be reduced.
Growing up happens
in managing this distance.
In choosing what to display.
In learning which truths travel safely.
In understanding that judgment
does not need an audience
to be effective.
Society calls this adjustment.
Progress.
Maturity.
But what it often creates
is division—
a self that survives expectation
and a self that remains intact.
The mistake is believing
One must replace the other.
Understanding comes later:
that becoming is not conformity,
and identity is not a performance,
But the space we protect
When the world insists on a mold.