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I find myself nodding along with the idea that there’s this intense, almost desperate trend lately toward being "likable," which usually just translates to people constantly performing this forced, relentless cheerfulness. It’s exhausting. The real issue, though, is that most of the folks playing this part don't actually possess a shred of the positivity they're peddling. It’s completely performative—like someone wearing a cheap costume that doesn't fit. As the author pointed out, it ends up having the exact opposite effect. Honestly, you can tell pretty quickly who is truly joyful and lighthearted, and who is just a total wannabe.
Personally, I’ve always had a soft spot for authentic people—those who feel zero pressure to mold themselves just to be accepted by the crowd. They are simply who they are, take it or leave it. Whether they happen to be laughing and talkative one minute or brooding and silent the next, it doesn't change their value to me.
David Fisher23 said:I would argue that one follows the other. It is impossible to offer genuine affection to someone else if we haven't mastered the ability to be kind to ourselves first.
We are stuck in this perpetual loop of projecting expectations onto one another, unable to accept anyone for who they actually are. Honestly, isn't that one of the fundamental fractures in our society?
We have this constant urge to bend others to our own whims, to control them, manipulate them, and demand things from them. We end up grading their value as human beings based on how well they serve us, simply because that is the toxic pattern we’ve inherited from everyone else.
It starts with parents, it's reinforced by society at large, and it carries straight into our romantic relationships.
Regarding those expectations, I'd add that people consistently demand far more than they are willing to contribute. I've seen plenty of relationships where one person is habitually unfaithful, yet they absolutely cannot stomach it when the shoe is on the other foot. It happens in all sorts of ways; for instance, people expect their partners to hang on every word they say, but the moment that partner tries to speak up, they dismiss them or shut the conversation down entirely.
Many people enter relationships for a single, selfish reason: to satisfy their most primal impulses through another person, whether they realize it or not. While obviously flawed, that is essentially how the social machinery turns. I believe we ought to allow another human being to just exist as they are and support their growth, rather than trying to mold them into something else. Unfortunately, fueled by insecurity and low emotional intelligence, we tend to treat people as tools to fulfill our own desires.
People claim to love their partners while simultaneously trying to micromanage every aspect of their personality to suit their own needs. Similarly—and I hear this quite often myself—parents will boast about providing everything for their children in terms of material wealth, yet they rarely provide the one thing that actually matters: the freedom for those children to become their true selves.
If every person performed just one act a day driven purely by love and goodwill—rather than selfishness, fear, or insecurity—the world wouldn't look anything like it does today.
But then again, as they say: "Don't hold your breath."
Exactly this.
I can't tell you how often I've encountered people who seem determined to force a complete overhaul on the very individuals they supposedly cherish. It makes you wonder—if you aren't actually fond of who they are in their natural state, what exactly was it that captured your heart in the first place? ☕
It’s much like what several others have pointed out—it all comes down to that deep-seated need for belonging. There’s this pervasive, almost subconscious thought process where you tell yourself, 'If I just act like them, they'll finally accept me.'
I know that feeling all too well; I've lived it. Honestly, I can't even begin to describe the sheer misery and emptiness I felt while trying to force myself into the pack, masquerading as someone I was never meant to be. For starters, I don't actually like alcohol. In fact, the whole idea of it turns my stomach. If I drink anything at all, it’s strictly beer. I won't even go into how many glasses of nauseating shots, cheap tequila, vodka, or various liqueurs I forced down my throat just to avoid hearing that dreaded, repetitive question: "So, why aren't you drinking anything?" Because I simply don't want to, for heaven's sake 🙄. Generally speaking, I can't stand going out, dancing in those dark, sweaty clubs, or listening to mindless trash music, yet that was precisely what I spent years doing—all just to fit in. I’ve always been terrified of large crowds, yet I kept forcing myself into them even as I felt myself dying a little bit inside every single time.
I feel as though ever since I finally embraced who I truly am, I can actually breathe and function like a normal person again. It’s been a total rebirth 😁
Also, as has already been mentioned, the way we are raised here plays a massive role. My parents are incredibly preoccupied with what other people think; they live in constant fear of being judged by their neighbors or anyone else. In their eyes, any kind of failure must be hidden away like a shameful secret, just to ensure no one accidentally forms a negative opinion about us 🙄
I know plenty of people who started listening to specific genres of music, reading certain books, or watching particular films solely to seem "cool" or interesting enough to impress the specific crowd they were chasing. And we aren't even talking about high school kids here; I'm talking about people in their mid-twenties. Good grief 🤮
My face always seems to have this default setting of looking grumpy, regardless of how I’m actually feeling inside. Even when I’m having the best day ever, I still catch people giving me those concerned looks, asking if everything is okay or why on earth I look so upset. I think the first time someone ever asked me that was back in elementary school. Honestly, there isn't some secret trick to fixing it; you just eventually get used to the misunderstanding. I've come to accept it as just part of my deal, and I don't let it get to me—if anything, I find the whole thing a little bit funny.