When Confidence Feels Like Pretend

Self & Identity series

Sometimes I wonder if people can tell. If they notice that my “confidence” is more of a costume than a truth. I can smile, speak up, walk into the room like I belong—but inside, I’m trembling.

Confidence, for me, often feels like acting. Like I’ve memorized the lines, rehearsed the posture, practiced the voice just enough to make it convincing. But behind it? There’s doubt. There’s hesitation. There’s that voice that whispers, you’re not as sure as you look.

And I hate how easy it is to fool people. How they see the outer performance and call it strength, when really it’s survival. They clap for the show but don’t realize I’m still scared under the spotlight.

What would it feel like for confidence to be real? Not pretend. Not stitched together from other people’s expectations. But grown from within—steady, unshakable, mine.

I don’t know yet. Most days, I keep wearing the act, hoping one day it fuses into truth. But part of me fears I’ll always be pretending—waiting for the moment someone notices the cracks in my voice and says, Ah, there it is. The real you. The one who isn’t sure.