Do people like me?

I recently came to a strange realization through some uncomfortable self-reflection: people don’t really like me.

I’ve always noticed how, over time, my relationships tend to sour, especially when I stop playing the game, start setting boundaries, or stop making myself smaller to keep things light and easy. But lately, I’ve realized that even when I show up quietly, with low emotional input, people still… don’t seem to like me.

And that realization didn’t make me sad at first. It made me curious.

I’ve always thought of myself as fascinating. Sometimes I make choices that even I don’t see coming. I don’t move through life in straight lines. And when people try to put me in a box, it never quite fits, and I notice that. I think, hmm, interesting. So when others are drawn to me with fascination, I used to think, that makes sense. Because that’s how I experience myself, too.

But over time, I started to understand that fascination isn’t the same as liking someone. Fascination is curiosity, mystery, novelty. It’s not the same as seeing someone. Not the same as choosing to sit with someone as they are.

If someone really liked me, I don’t think they’d try to define me. They’d just experience me.

Growing up, when I fell out with people, my sibling would say, “They don’t like you.”And hearing that stung, deeply. But even then, it never fully landed, because I always thought, How can they not like me if they don’t even know me? It’s like hating a cake you’ve never even tried.Weird analogy, but that’s what came to me.

Looking back, I think that moment shaped how I see myself in relationships.She made it feel like it was my fault that people didn’t like me.So I started thinking:Maybe if I empathize more… give more of my heart… I can change how relationships turn out.

Being programmed to believe, from an early age, that how people treat you is somehow your responsibility, that costs you. It costs a lot.

And the irony is, I still overgave and I was still myself, despite her comments.It’s like I held both beliefs at once:That being real would isolate me,And that maybe if I loved harder, I could earn safety.

I carried both of those truths for so long, I couldn’t even see the line I was walking anymore.

The most painful part of my authenticity journey hasn’t been being alone.It’s been the cruelty.How mean people have become.I can’t even begin to describe the subtle (and not-so-subtle) campaigns to isolate me, the ways people have chosen to insult me, discredit me, or turn others against me.

It’s as if people would rather break me than let me be who I really am.And the worst part?It’s when that pain comes from people who believe they “know” me.

So then I wonder:What holds people back from really seeing others? From asking deeper questions? From letting themselves know someone beneath the surface?

We’re alive. We’re here.Why choose to live only on the edges of things?

When I’m around people, I notice how they tend to project, assume, or even insult. And I’ve wondered, does my authenticity make people uncomfortable? And if so… is it worth it?

That’s always the choice, right?Be yourself and risk isolation.Or shrink, mask, and integrate. But I’ve tried that. I’ve tried blending in with people I don’t connect with, respect, or even like and it always leaves me feeling hollow. My ego, though, it whispers to me that I belong. That I’m part of something. It’s a lie, but a comforting one.

Still, every time I go down that road, I feel the walls start closing in. And so, again, I choose isolation.

I won’t sugarcoat it, it's hard.Loneliness brings you face to face with every doubt you’ve ever buried. You question everything. You wonder if this path is even necessary. To not be liked or loved by others, it hurts. For a long time. But I chose it, and I keep choosing it.

And yet… I still want connection. I’m human. I get curious.So I thought, maybe now that I’m comfortable with myself, I can show up fully and stay that way around others. Especially if I’m even more unapologetic this time.

So I did.And afterward, I found myself overthinking again, running the conversations back in my mind until it clicked:Oh… you don’t like me.

And that’s such a strange realization.To know that people don’t like you…while you genuinely like yourself.

It’s not ego. It’s just confusing.How could you not?

Not because I think I’m better than anyone, but because I’m not playing games. You don’t dislike me because I’m mean or dull. You dislike me because I don’t let you play with me. Because I won’t let you mold me into something easier to digest.

I think I really started to understand that when people stopped asking about my life. They wanted to be around me, but only to fill in their own blanks. Even when I offer the truth, they overwrite it with whatever version makes more sense to them.

I think about that quote often:“Life is a costume party, and I attended with my real face.”

Well… I did. I still do.And I refuse to shrink.