To Be Perceived Correctly

I think one of the strongest parts of becoming a woman in your twenties is realizing how capable you can be while still feeling emotionally undone.

The world talks about independence like it erases longing. Like once you know how to handle things on your own, you stop wanting softness, reassurance, love, or to be chosen correctly.

But that has never felt true to me.

The other day I changed my taillights myself under the hot sun. Vacuumed my car. Refilled my tires. Recharged my AC. Made food afterward. Wrote. And still made it to the gym that night.

And somewhere between all of that, I still found myself thinking about someone I miss.

That contradiction embarrasses me sometimes.

I fear being perceived as one-dimensional. Emotional in the shallow sense. Like all this inner life I carry can be reduced to whether or not someone loves me.

I think that’s why I hesitate to share certain pieces of writing. I want people to view me as intelligent before vulnerable. Capable before soft.

I want to be perceived correctly.

But maybe that desire itself is part of being young too.

There’s a specific loneliness in becoming self-sufficient. You learn how to carry groceries alone, fix small problems alone, calm yourself down alone, drive yourself home alone, and text nobody to say you made it home safely. And eventually, you become competent. Efficient. Functional.

Yet some small part of you still wants someone to witness it all.

Not save you. Just witness you.

I think women especially are taught that competence makes us respectable, while emotion makes us excessive. So we try to present our sadness carefully. Beautifully. Intelligently. We want our vulnerability to still sound impressive.

We want to be the cool girl even while falling apart.

And maybe that’s why so much of modern girlhood feels performative. Not because our emotions are fake, but because we’re terrified of being reduced to them.

So we become curators of ourselves.

We say just enough.
Not too much.
Honest but still desirable.

But the truth is, some of the most meaningful moments of life happen inside these contradictions.

The girl crying over love is still the same girl paying her bills, helping her family, pursuing her degree, working that shift, and doing it all again in the morning.

I think I’m slowly learning that vulnerability does not cancel out capability.

If anything, carrying both at once is what makes someone real.