The Unseen Version

Who are you when no one is watching? Is it a version of yourself that you can be gentle and honest with, or the one you are still trying to figure out?

When no one is there to watch me, I tend to feel more free and can be softer with myself. There is no pressure to present myself correctly or the need to explain myself. It’s just me, existing in the quietness without an audience watching me. I sit with my thoughts way longer than I probably should. I let my favorite songs play without skipping them halfway. I allow myself to feel everything. I don’t try to be productive or fill myself with positive energy. I let myself feel the tiredness, the uncertainty, the quietness and even the feeling of being lost. I think about the person I’m becoming and whether or not I’m moving in the right direction to reach a state where I can finally like the version of myself when I’m alone. I think about how much I soften for others and hold back many parts of myself without even realizing it. I replay moments throughout the day and wonder if I accidentally said too much or too little.

There is a version of myself that only exists in private . The one who talks to herself, who sits on the floor when things feel heavy, who lets her past consume her thoughts, who imagines all the future possibilities and wonders which one feels like home to her. That version isn’t curated. She’s unfinished, scattered like an incomplete piece of a puzzle. But maybe that is the most honest version of me. I believe who we are when no one is watching genuinely matters more than who we are when everyone is around. It’s where our kindness toward ourselves comes from, the place where our fears and habits present themselves. If we can learn to accept and be gentle with that messy version that only exists in solitude, then maybe we are doing something right.

The person I’m around the most is myself, and I want to love who I am when no one is watching.