I used to think being loved meant being whatever people needed me to be. The peacemaker. The helper. The reliable one. The strong one. The understanding one. The version of me that made everyone else comfortable.
For a long time, I became very good at it. I learned how to read a room before I entered it. I learned how to adjust my words, my reactions, and sometimes even my dreams to fit the people around me.
I became a mirror. Reflecting back what others needed to see. And if I’m honest, there was safety in that. When you’re busy meeting everyone’s expectations, you rarely have to ask yourself what you want. You rarely have to risk disappointing anyone. You rarely have to stand fully in your own truth.
But eventually something happens. You wake up one day and realize you’ve spent so much time becoming who everyone else needed that you’ve lost sight of who you are when no one is watching.
That’s the loneliness at the center of mirrorball. Not the loneliness of being alone. The loneliness of being surrounded by people while feeling unseen. Because being admired isn’t the same as being known. Being needed isn’t the same thing as being understood. And being everything for everyone often leaves very little room to be yourself.
Mirrorball is about the moment the reflection starts to crack. The moment you realize that authenticity is worth more than approval. The moment you stop performing and start living. Not because you’re finally willing to let people see the real version of you, even if it isn’t polished, or universally liked.
The older I get, the more I understand that peace isn’t found in becoming what everyone else expects. It’s found in becoming yourself. And trusting that the people meant for you will stay.
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