My Insecurity

I realised when I woke up this morning (at 11:48, must have been the beer) that I am attracted to people who seem confident, but are actually quite insecure. This applies especially to the girls I have been romantically attracted to, but I might as well say the same about a lot of my close friends. It didn't take me long to realise that this is probably because I have tried to act in a similar way since I started university, but it did surprise me to notice that when I started being friends with the aforementioned people, I knew nothing of their insecurities. I've always been a fairly good judge of character, and I don't often have to change my opinions of people (although a few examples do spring to mind), but I seem to have a blind spot when it comes to traits which I share with those around me. Or at least, I don't immediately think "oh, this person's like me in such-and-such a respect".

I imagine most of my friends have noticed my lack of self-confidence, despite my best efforts to hide it. To those who don't know me very well, some of my ways of hiding it are not particularly endearing. Particularly my occasional obsession with work (although this isn't entirely a cover!), my occasional shows of 'confidence' (you could read this as arrogance, but that isn't often the case - and the cases when it is, I spend a good few days unable to sleep afterwards) or anger (a once-in-a-four-year event, and usually only apparent when I feel misrepresented). My sense of humour is another perhaps more endearing trait. Well, endearing to some, anyway.

When I write these posts, they're normally things about me that I don't feel I can say to anyone else's face. It puts me in mind of the end of an old Joyce Grenfell song, 'Dear Francois':

Dear Francois, have no fear, I will not fail.
These letters shall not reach you, that I swear.
I write you every year,
But none of my letters ever catch the mail.

Of course, in this case my 'letters' will not reach who they are intended for not because they'll never get sent, but because they will get swallowed up in the great depths on the net. But just as in the days before such things, when letters were written and never posted, now it is similarly cathartic to post these musings somewhere, so that they can be consigned to the box of memories rather than churned through thoughts again and again, late into the night and deep into the soul.