My friend lives next door to a beautiful house. It’s immaculate. The garden impressed me from day one. Often, when I stop by, the neighbouris outside tending to her plants or washing the car.
She obviously holds her home appearance in a position of high importance….
Except I was shocked the first time I stepped into a different view and perspective. The backyard is trashed. The stairs are in utter disrepair. There’s no garden, not even a sign of human life having touched the space in years.
The part of the house you can see is at odds with the part that doesn’t show.
And what a metaphor for life that is.
Sometimes people can surprise you. Sometimes, just when you think you know a person you uncover their messy bits; the parts that they hide from the world.
We all want to seem like we have it together. Whether we’re willing to admit it or not, it feels better to feel like the facade is working, which is interesting because I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who felt on the inside the way they present on the outside.
I guess it’s protectionism.
I never saw myself as a people pleaser. I was a rebel and nothing but. But if you want people to like you and you wear a good front, the idea of being found out becomes terrifying. More and mort effort is needed to keep up the act. The stakes get higher and one day you look around and you’re a liar. An imposter. And your back stairs are fucked because you spent your life working on the parts that people could see.
I gotta work on these stairs.