Being NICE


When I was a kid my sisters said to me you should smile more often.

Why? I didn’t have anything to smile about. Still, I stuck a smile on my face, you can imagine how spontaneous it looked.

One day in my late twenties I caught a reflection of myself in a shop mirror – WHAT????????? Is that me looking so sweet and NICE? When on the inside I’m so angry and lost?

Yup. That was me. Sobering moment. Who I am and what I show the world. No wonder people don’t take note of me, I thought, no wonder they don’t think I’m anyone of merit or relevance. No wonder they trample all over me.

Sweet and nice: despite how well I can play the role, it’s just not me. I can be warm and empathetic, loving, caring and all those things ordinary human beings can be, I promise, I’m not lying. But sweet? It’s not real. It’s a defensive position. Don’t hurt me, don’t attack me. Truth is I’m more latin in temperament than anything else – violently powerful emotions, quick to leap into the fray.

Strange that a person can be one thing but portray the absolute opposite to the world. Well, it’s taken me ages to be the same on the outside as I am on the inside and choose what to show the world, but old habits die hard and sometimes NICE still kicks in.

It’s revolting. I’m not talking about integrity and compassion here, those things aren’t revolting, they’re beautiful and admirable. I’m talking about compliant and faking it. Because of deep-rooted fear.

Don’t like being around it, and don’t like it in myself.

It’s vomitous.

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