I love to laugh. Especially at myself - there is a special sense of freedom in this.
But at some point you catch yourself thinking that you are being confused with a caricature of yourself.
You tell another ironic story about your life - and you see how it doesn't even occur to people to ask:
"Listen, are you okay now?"
Because you are "that same cheerful girl" who "always laughs", who "turns any trash into a stand-up comedy".
And inside this girl, her patience may have just snapped and her nervous system is quietly crying. But everyone is laughing. And you are laughing with them.
One day a guy wrote to me:
— "You're so cool! It's fun with you, like a friend.
But I'm still looking for another girl - a quieter one."
I wasn't even offended. I laughed. Because it was funny.
Then I cried. But that was later - in the bathroom, as befits a dramatic clown.
You see, jokes are great.
But when you start to be perceived only as entertainment content, as a living TikTok, in which you jump between memes and an ironic vibe - it becomes a little uncomfortable.
Especially when you want to talk about something serious. And in response to you:
— "Well, you're not serious, right? I'm used to you always having a joke."
Sometimes you want to take a sign:
"Yes, I can joke. No, I'm not a joke."
So let the laughter be nearby. Let us laugh until we cry, lying on the floor, from the most absurd situations.
But let there be room for silence, and for depth, and for sincerity.
I am not against being cheerful - I am simply against being a mask that is put on for the sake of others' amusement.
Let them laugh with you - but not at you.
And most importantly - not instead of listening.