Costume party

A lot of people say that in order to make it, you gotta fake it first. But little to none mention what happens when you feel like you never make it. And instead, you are stuck perpetually faking it, until one day, you look at yourself in the mirror and wonder why you can’t seem to recognise your own face in the blurry limbo between the real you and the fake you.

I found myself lost in this horror-like limbo on an unassuming Tuesday, scrolling randomly through Instagram as I waited for a friend at the TostiWorld. As I went further down, my old friend made his grand reappearance.

Friend is a generous term. I prefer to call him ‘self-awareness’, but those who are less familiar with him usually lean towards the more formal address of ‘insecurity’.

He made himself comfortable in his favourite chair and provided vigorous commentary as we both watched the slew of images roll past. Each post we saw was trailed by a snide remark from him. So, to parry his attacks on my self-esteem, I brought up my own page and analysed the image I’ve precariously curated to stand a chance in the sea of cool people I followed. “Look!”, I told him, “I make cool photo dumps as well! I too go to cool places! I definitely have cool friends, and we definitely do cool activities together!”

Of course, he merely scoffed at my attempt, saying how I was faking the whole shebang on my page and to truly be cool, it had to have come effortlessly and naturally. I retaliated with the mention of the age-old saying from above. “I had to fake it first to make it, okay?” But the argument felt weak, because how long have I been faking it for to still make it a good excuse?

Thankfully, our debate had to be paused as the real-life friend I was waiting for finally arrived.

I briefed her on my internal struggles. She too shared the same sentiments about wishing for more free time as she juggled studies, a board year, and a plethora of shiny activities that she maintained in an effort to have a shot at competing in our modern society’s culture of endless hustle and bustle.

As we got up to leave, we stopped to chat with her friend who was manning the cashier. The other friend residing in my mind scooted to the front of his seat and whooped with joy as the cashier girl started speaking about how she was currently in her masters, while training to be a personal trainer, and naturally had two other jobs on the side. “There!”, he exclaimed, “That’s what you’re faking to be like! She’s doing it for real, so why can’t you?” He had a point.

But as the voice in my head started building a pedestal for the cashier girl in my mind, she suddenly sighed and said: “How I wish I had more free time.”

And as we walked out of Food Plaza, I gazed at the crowds of students in their various states of busy-ness and wondered: what if each one of us was faking it one way or another? What if we were all stuck in this big costume party of life?