Who Am I to People Who Used to Know Me?

I've recently been preoccupied with what I post, where I post it, and who can see it, as well as who shares it and where it is being shared. This kind of vigilance was more prominent when I first began posting. What surprised me was its return. It's been long enough that I no longer considered this to be a concern. And if you've read my blog (prior to the change of platforms), you would know I distrust emotions without reason. Which brought me to exploring this self-conscious way of thinking. The explanation was that I had changed, and that change was now visible online to people who used to know me but had not been around to see it happen.

What my mind was circling wasn't the possibility of being mocked or dismissed, but the idea that people who used to know me would see what I share now and believe it to be artificial. Social media doesn't allow others to see gradual recognition. It serves you the outcome, with no accumulation. Which means change often is only visible all at once. Social media is a performance. Therefore, your personality can easily be mistaken for one too. When I think about the person who left their hometown in comparison to the one who visits once a year, the change might feel abrupt for all parties involved. There was more than growth being seen as an act, though. There was also the fear of incompatibility. Despite believing you can bond over minuscule similarities and it's the effort that matters, not everyone follows that system. I think that the version of me my once friends encounter now would no longer align with the one they knew for years. That the version of who I am now can be perceived as falseness. And although neither is untrue, one had just been interrupted.

Recognizing that you are not you in other people's memories. I find myself forgetting that understanding a person relies on continuation. A personality is normally seen changing in increments. Monthly maybe. It's not supposed to be seen on the next swipe down. Or up. However you regularly scroll.

I'm twenty and learning that I am not supposed to remain recognizable to people who are rarely present in my life. What exists between the version some may remember me as and the one they see online today isn't falseness, but a result of distance and time.