Have you ever had the sinking suspicion that the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for you to mess up? Like every bad decision, every awkward sentence, every unfinished project is being cataloged somewhere by some cosmic panel of judges?
Yeah, same.
I’ve been on both sides of it—the one silently judging and the one panicking under the weight of imagined scrutiny. And I’ve realized something that simultaneously makes me laugh and want to cry: nobody is paying as much attention as we think they are.
It’s wild, isn’t it? How much time we waste holding ourselves back because we think someone, somewhere, is keeping score. Like, I have literally sat there, paralyzed, because of this fake audience I’ve built in my head. An audience that doesn’t exist, by the way. Or if it does, they’ve probably already moved on to something else more entertaining, like TikTok or their own failures.
But here’s where it gets tricky. It’s not just the fear of judgment that gets you—it’s the shame of even caring. You ever stop and think about how absurd it is to be afraid of people who aren’t even watching? Like, I once talked myself out of sharing something because I imagined a person I haven’t spoken to in ten years rolling their eyes at me. This person doesn’t even know my life. I don’t even know if they still live in the same country. And yet, they had veto power over my choices. Ridiculous.
The thing is, I used to think this fear was universal. Like, maybe it’s just how humans are wired. But then I met people who genuinely don’t care. Like, they’ll post the most unfiltered, cringe-worthy stuff, and they’re just… fine. No existential spirals, no imaginary audience tearing them apart. It’s not that they’re braver. They’ve just figured out the secret: the world isn’t watching.
Or maybe it is, but not in the way you think. Not like you’re the main character in someone else’s disaster film. More like, people are rooting for you in the background of their own lives, and if they’re judging, it’s for like, five seconds before they go back to worrying about their own stuff.
I think about this every time I start a new project. There’s always this moment where I’m like, “What if this sucks? What if people hate it?” And then I remember that most people won’t even see it. Or care. Or remember it existed. And instead of feeling depressing, that thought is freeing.
Because if nobody’s really paying attention, why not just… do the thing? Share the weird idea. Write the clumsy blog post. Post the vulnerable, messy update. Not because it’s polished or perfect or ready, but because it’s yours. And honestly, if someone judges you for trying, that’s on them. They’re the ones wasting their energy being cynical while you’re out here, you know, living.
I’m not saying this like I’ve figured it out. I still catch myself overthinking, holding back, editing myself into oblivion. But every time I manage to push past it, something cool happens. Sometimes it’s a comment from a stranger that hits just right. Sometimes it’s a connection I didn’t know I needed. And sometimes it’s just the quiet satisfaction of realizing I didn’t let the imaginary audience win.
So, if you’re stuck in your head today, wondering what people will think if you show them who you are, let me save you some time: they’ll think about it for five seconds, max. Maybe they’ll hit like. Maybe they won’t. And then they’ll go back to scrolling or folding laundry or obsessing over their own insecurities.
You’re free. Do whatever the hell you want with that freedom.
Oh, and if you’re curious about how this plays out in real life, there’s a video I made about letting go of fear and just showing up as you are.
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