The Quest to Express

Yesterday, I met a friend at a café. We were talking for hours, and at one point, the topic came up, how I never express my true emotions, feelings, or thoughts, and how I keep everything to myself. My friend pushed me to express and extract all the thoughts I had, yet I only let out a few. Yes, getting them off my chest felt better, but there was a moment when I was almost on the verge of crying and breaking down.

Later, on my way back home, I kept analysing the whole situation, and even this morning. This blog is a way to explore those topics and dive deeper.

The issue lies in my deep-rooted inability to express any sort of emotion, feeling, thought, or opinion in a non-professional setting. We’re talking about day-to-day life here, not work.

This problem was apparent to me from a very young age, but it was never addressed then. I didn’t have the need, nor the awareness, to deal with it. But as I grew up, it crept into relationships, friendships, and all sorts of interactions.

Recently, I realised something: when we don’t express or share, people start assuming. They create their own versions of us. The friend I was talking to that day had also built assumptions. I rarely correct these assumptions, partly because proving them wrong feels like too much drag, and partly because I think, deep down, I enjoy it. It’s connected to not wanting the other person to truly know me.

If we peel back a layer, it’s really about guarding the true self. Maybe it’s tied to the preservation of the Ego. But why does the Ego guard us this way?

I think it stems from the fear of being hurt. For me, expressing and sharing feels almost like a survival risk. I’ve unconsciously built a connection that people exploit vulnerabilities, and I still believe that to some extent. So, the Ego takes on a protective role: shielding those vulnerabilities, keeping the deeper thoughts hidden to avoid pain. Because ultimately, the Ego’s job is preservation.

But such mechanisms come with side effects, trust issues. Deep ones.

In 2019, I set out on a quest to understand emotions. I did succeed to some degree and gained a better understanding, but it was still surface-level. Progress nevertheless.

Around that time, I began an experiment to express feelings as they appeared. It worked decently in most situations, but when it came to intimate relationships, it failed miserably. Somewhere along that experience, my mind linked emotion = weakness. That left deep scars. It closed me off. All doors shut.

Unconsciously, I fell into confirmation bias. That bias reinforced my worldview about emotions and sharing them. The result: I kept people at a distance. Some sensed that distance and quietly drifted away; others I pushed away myself. At the time, I believed people were expendable.

But I also started using my understanding of emotions on people, manipulating them. Not for harm, but to empower them. Still, it was wrong because they believed their actions were of their own free will. In reality, I had guided them there. Let’s not go down that path right now.

That distance is one key reason no one has ever expressed genuine emotions toward me. It always makes me sad. It makes me question whether I am capable of being loved, no matter how deeply I’ve loved someone.

That thought leads to another, the fear of acceptance. I used to justify it by saying: If I think people are expendable, why should they accept me? But as I’ve grown and those tendencies have softened, I’ve started to feel the sadness of never being truly invited in.

No one ever asked me to open up until this friend. Maybe that’s why I value this friendship so much.

Still, this fear of people, of not knowing how they’ll react, stays. I’ve seen people flip at crucial moments when I’ve dared to express myself.

All of this led me to speak only when I was sure of the words and the possible reactions. Otherwise, silence.

Over time, I perfected the act. Speaking the right words at the right time, or not speaking at all. The result? Predictable responses. Stability.

But therapists and close ones noticed. They said I “package” my words, feelings, emotions so tightly that it feels inauthentic. I’ve been reflecting on this for a year now. And yes, they’re right. It’s becoming harder to open up again. Years of inner wiring have made unlearning extremely difficult.

Again, this habit of packaging is the Ego’s survival mechanism, keeping things agreeable, avoiding conflicts, being polite, politically correct, and context-aware. Hiding the deeper thoughts.

It’s gone so far that I’ve stopped sharing even with my parents and close friends. Not because I don’t trust them entirely, but because I fear their reactions, the unpredictability. Also, because I don’t want to burden them with my sadness or negativity.

I’ve seen their faces when I did share. The twitch, the shift, the avoidance. That reaction taught me: real emotions repel. So I keep the conversations light and pleasant, while I deal with the heavy stuff alone.

That’s become my cryptic mode of existence. And that’s why my friend lashed out: “If you’re not going to share anything, what’s the point of being friends?”

All this has made it nearly impossible to form truly authentic connections, except for a few. Most feel fake now. And somehow, I’ve grown comfortable with that fakeness.

But here’s the thing, this is the real me, the one under all that layering.

Raw.

Often dark-humoured. Sometimes oversexualized, maybe that’s a problem, maybe not.

Politically incorrect when I need to be. Straightforward to a fault.

Filled with hardcore beliefs, but morally standing nowhere fixed, everything is fine if it’s born from a positive place.

Yet inside, I’m ridiculously soft. Calm. I judge people, yes, but my motto has always been live and let live. I’m an extreme romantic; I love doing cute, almost stupid things out of affection. I’m sensitive. Emotional.

I love people and things and nature almost too much. I care deeply. I’m considerate, empathetic, compassionate, even when I’m falling apart internally. I never wish anyone harm, no matter how much they’ve hurt me.

If someone ever wants to know who I am on the inside, this is it.

But there’s work happening. Therapy is helping me untangle the mess, confronting old biases, healing deep-rooted trauma, and rewriting the meanings I’ve carried for years.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how our past shapes our future. But that’s a dangerous loop. The idea is to stop giving the past that much control. The now matters. Breaking the chain of confirmation bias matters.

There’s probably more I’ve missed, and I’ll explore those in future entries.

This was real.

But overall, the quest for expressing the authentic self has been the recurring theme of my life lately.