The Mask We Wear: Pretending to Be Cool When We Care Too Damn Much
Ah, the eternal compliment: “You’re so cool.” People say it like it's the highest form of praise, like being “cool” is some sort of mystical superpower. Yeah, sure. I’m cool. I’ll nod and give that effortless “I’m way too chill for this” grin. But in reality, if you could see inside my head, deep down I’m thinking, Oh, honey, if you only knew. you'd realize that I’m anything but cool.
I’m great at pretending. I’ve mastered the art of acting like I don’t care, like I’m not bothered, like I’m too cool for anything to faze me. But let me pull back the curtain for a second. You ready? I care. A lot. In fact, I care so much, it’s borderline ridiculous. I think about things a thousand and sixteen times (yes, that specific number), I plan out what I’m going to say next like I’m scripting an Oscar-winning performance, and let’s not even get started on the mental back-and-forth debates I have with myself.
I’m not the type of person who drifts through life like an emotionally detached robot, brushing everything off like it’s no big deal. No, no. I feel things. Immensely. Overwhelmingly. Like, “Oh, is that an emotion? Let me take a magnifying glass to it and overanalyze it until I’m questioning every life decision I’ve ever made.” Yeah, that’s me. I feel everything, and it’s exhausting, but you know what? I’m not sorry about it.
Here’s the truth: If I’m spending time with you, talking to you, or even thinking about you—it means something. It’s not just idle chit-chat to me. It’s not some meaningless exchange. Every single word I say, I mean it. So when I say “I’m fine,” and you really know I’m not, don’t play coy. I’m paying attention to the subtle art of the lie. You’ll know. Oh, you’ll know.
I’m not the cold, indifferent type. Not at all. I notice things. Details. Little things that most people won’t even blink an eye at. So, no—I’m not the “nonchalant, indifferent, almost cold” type. If you’ve pegged me as that, then congratulations on getting it completely wrong. I feel everything too much. So strongly that sometimes, it feels like I’m drowning in my own emotions. But I can’t stop it. I’m wired this way. I care. I think. I feel. It’s a lot, but it’s who I am.
So, if something’s wrong, and you think I won’t notice or that I’ll just let it slide, let me give you a little heads-up: I won’t. I’m that person who picks up on every little change. The way your typing style shifts. The sudden awkward silences. The “I’m fine” that isn’t fine. You think I won’t pick up on that tiny shift in tone, the sudden drop from paragraphs to one-word responses? Oh, I notice. Every little detail. Every shift in energy. I see it. I feel it. And I remember it.
Nothing goes unnoticed. Not a single detail.
And here’s the deal: if I’ve invested any amount of time or energy into talking to you, it means something. Every word I say? I mean it. I don’t just toss words around like they’re meaningless filler. So when I say something, take it seriously. Because I’m not the type to throw around empty gestures.
So next time you think you can slide by with a half-hearted response or ignore the fact that things are drifting apart, remember: I’ve already noticed. And trust me, I care—maybe more than you’d like me to. But that’s just the way it is when you give a damn in a world full of people pretending not to.
But here’s where it gets dark and a little twisted: As much as I care, once I stop caring, it’s like I’m flipping a switch. And when I decide I’m done, when I’ve had enough and I’ve fully given up on you? That’s it. You cease to exist in my world. The curtain falls. It’s like that part of you never mattered, never happened. That’s my toxic trait, I guess, but who’s perfect? There's always a flip side to every coin. I can love intensely, and just as intensely, I can take it all back when it’s no longer worth it.
The thing is, once I’m over it, there’s no coming back. No magic fix or sudden change of heart. Once I’ve made the decision to stop caring, it’s like the final goodbye. And that’s the hardest part for people to swallow. But you have to understand: if I’m done, I’m done.
So, yeah, I guess my “cool” is just a cover-up for the storm of feelings I’m trying to keep in check. And maybe that’s my curse: I care too much… until I don’t.
.......
Thanks for keep reading the if you've made it to the end! Yayy! * bearing my mind most random yapping sessions* ahem!
Sending you all positivity!!!!!
Con amour <3
With love Ayesha 💌