
It just gets too tiring, doesn’t it, not being you?
You start withdrawing – from social settings, conversations, even people you care about. It’s not apathy—it’s exhaustion.
You get irritated easily – the smallest things get under your skin because you’re stretched too thin trying to keep up a version of you that isn’t real.
You feel flat or numb – your emotions go quiet because you’ve been suppressing them for too long.
You fantasise about disappearing – not dramatically, just craving peace, space, and freedom from all the noise.
You stop caring about the things you used to love – the spark fades because you weren’t doing them from a true place anymore.

It just gets too tiring, doesn’t it, not being you?
You dread social gatherings – because it means another moment of pretending.
You feel like a fraud – even if you’re “doing well,” something feels off, like you’re living a life that doesn’t belong to you.
You’re constantly tired – not from lack of sleep, but from the emotional weight of keeping up the act.
You overthink every interaction – replaying what you said, worrying how you came across, wondering if you were too much or not enough.
You can’t sit still without feeling restless – silence makes you uneasy because it brings up the truth you’ve been avoiding.

It just gets too tiring, doesn’t it, not being you?
You start saying no more often – because you can’t fake another yes.
You crave deep connection, but also space – you’re done with surface-level anything.
You feel emotional for “no reason” – but the truth is, your real self is trying to break through.
You react more than usual – your tolerance for BS is gone, and the pressure of misalignment is pushing everything to the surface.
You start asking bigger questions – “Is this it?” “Who even am I?” “What would it feel like to just be… me?”