Who Am I?
This year I turn 32, and it’s a little embarrassing to admit that I still don’t know who I am.
A couple of days ago, while rereading past entries on this blog, I noticed several pieces I no longer identify with. Not only the way I used to think back then, but also the voice and style with which I wrote those posts.
Some of them even make me uncomfortable, because deep down you can tell how the words came out with a lot of difficulty, with a bit of falseness, and ended up feeling like a performance. As if, at my core, I were responding to or speaking to an imaginary audience I honestly never had, trying to create conversation with the Bear Blog community in a somewhat desperate attempt to provoke a reaction.
A kind of unhealthy “delulu”, if you ask me.
In part, this happened because I saw writing as an obligation instead of as an activity to express myself genuinely. My need to be perceived led me down the wrong path, making me write the occasional post designed to reach the front page, using a bad habit or two as a hook to chase a toast & inspire others to send an email and, in that way, try to build community.
Deep down, what I always wanted was to “belong”, for lack of a better word, but now I realize I started off on the wrong foot, and my desire to be “relevant” to others took the enjoyment out of this activity and generated the opposite reaction. Loser behavior, I know.
I should clarify that this doesn’t mean ALL the posts on this blog were written with those motivations; in fact, they’re the minority. And, in fact, they’re the ones that (for the most part) nobody paid attention to. I should also mention that I’ve never made anything up or lied about my experiences.
For better or worse, everything written here has come out of my head and is based on my real life. I’ve also never used AI; I may have acted like a loser, but not THAT kind of loser.
Ironically, the posts that got the most attention and the occasional response from kind people were the ones I wrote without filters, about personal experiences and banal things that I find interesting. Those are the posts where I express my real voice, with no expectations or ulterior motives.
All the filler where I tried to weigh in on trending topics or on the Bear Blog community itself ended up backfiring. Once again: not because I wanted to express my opinion on the topic, or because doing so was inherently bad, but because my intention was to chase the spotlight, even if only for an ephemeral moment.
It embarrasses me and saddens me to acknowledge this. I seriously considered killing this blog and starting over, but I think there’s a lot of personal value in owning the screw-up and continuing, having learned from the experience. As well as keeping the previous writings as a testament to the road traveled.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the things that define me: my personality, my habits, and the kind of voice I have in real life and as a writer/blogger. I’ve seriously questioned whether I’m as creative as I believe I am, because being authentic, even when writing anonymously, is a real challenge for my anxiety.
One of the positive things this hobby has given me is the chance to get to know the voices of other people who enjoy writing, and to take them as inspiration to reach that level of authenticity without feeling like I’m masking. It’s easy to tell when words are genuine.
This year I have one very simple goal, but not an easy one:
To try to interact genuinely with other people, without anxiety and without prejudice.
Whenever I’ve had the courage to be who I am, things have turned out well. I try not to be so hard on myself, because that dopamine hit is something we’re constantly chasing, and I think it’s human to look for shortcuts to get it every now and then.
Who knows? Maybe more than one person will feel identified when reading this. After all, modernity and the attention economy have made us believe that if we don’t make an impact on others, we’re nobody. But that’s not true, and it’s certainly not the path. I, in fact, despise this way of thinking with all my gut.
Here’s to a more genuine 2026 for all of us, where we can be who we truly are, without fear.