A wolf in sheep’s clothing

Aarushi Gandhi
von Aarushi Gandhi 1. Februar 2025

Aren’t we all walking around in costumes?

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” We repeat it again and again, like the mantra could save us. Humans are known to be pathological liars. More than others, we seem to be better at lying to ourselves.

We go through a million different versions of ourselves, as we exercise the privilege of inhabiting this world. Change is an intrinsic human characteristic, but one of the things that rapidly grows in importance is society’s view of us. We work tirelessly to meet every expectation and contradiction. We start to build defences, costumes, to shield us from ourselves. We do it because it’s easier. We do it because while being hated for who you pretend to be is hard, it doesn’t even compare to being hated for who you really are. But if we show no one, if we disregard the costume for no one, then we have failed as a species. Then whoever we are on the inside suffers a secret death right into their own grave. Then we would have locked up our spirit in a metal box, never to let it see the light again. 

Is that not a greater tragedy? 

I live in constant fear that I never let myself bathe in the sunlight. That I will let the mere existence of others ensure that I will die without ever having truly lived. Is that not scarier than rejection? Isn’t there more to life than mere societal acceptance?  

How fair is it anyway, to predetermine that others will judge you, reject you or think less of you for being you. It’s raw and it’s vulnerable. It’s a gaping hole. It’s standing in front of a cliff and giving someone else the power to push you. It’s the risk that they do it. It’s the bitter taste of rejection, of being unwanted. We’ll do anything to avoid being unwanted. To us, that translates into unloved. And if you aren’t loved, what are you doing here anyway? 

We have to make sure we never fall. Strap a parachute onto our backs, so that if they push us, now, we’re simply flying. We need to do something. Anything. Falling is inevitable, but only you can control the speed of the fall.

The truth is easy. Not everyone will like us, no matter how many different people we try to be. Most people won’t know you exist. Most won’t care. We only get a handful of people who care about our existence. An even smaller amount that loves us, loves us the way we are. 

It’s not what most people want to hear. It’s not easy to accept that most people will hate you, not in a world where others’ opinions define you. The simplest way to accept it is to make your handful worth it. 

Out of everyone in the world, your handful chose you. 

Someday you’ll stumble upon someone with whom you can peel back your layers. Someone who you can sit next to, look at each other and see, we’re all made of the same thing. We’re all centred around a beating muscle, pumping blood. 

We’re all made of the same blood, the same air, the same cells. But then, how come her laugh is different? How come she can run faster than me? A wise adage is that comparison is the death of happiness. Our costumes not only keep us caged but hide our individuality. My dream is to write great novels, to make my words immortal, but does that make me worse than her, who wants to become a surgeon and save lives? If we were all the same person, there would be no need to have more than one of us. Our world runs on balance, a precarious balance that is constantly being tested by the hands of society. We push and pull at something we do not understand, when all we must do is stand still. 

We’re so scared of the truth, that most of us spend our whole life running from it. But the truth is like a shadow, you can escape it only if you live in the dark. The truth reflects what is within us. Instead of running from it, shouldn’t we make sure the one person that’ll accompany us throughout all of it is good company?

Instead of trying to be the wolf, pretending to be better than you are, become the sheep that escapes its grasp. 

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