We live in a society of pretenders.
They pretend capability.
Pretend compassion.
Pretend outrage.
Everyone is afraid of losing face.
So everyone pretends.
Because that is the society we’ve built.
A society that expects you to be polite. That expects you to care about whatever people care about lately. That expects you to act nice, engage in trivial small talk, and never say anything out of line. That expects you to suppress your feelings if they do not match the group.
You have to participate in the masquerade or risk judgment and condemnation. A completely honest person quickly becomes unsociable and often unemployable, because honesty is mistaken for harshness, even rudeness.
People say they want honesty.
Mostly they want comfort.
They want easy interaction.
Something light.
Something manageable.
So they ask how you are,
but expect you to say fine.
They ask your opinion,
but hope you agree.
They offer help anytime,
but hope you never call.
This leaves countless people feeling lonely. Slightly out of place. Like they cannot show their real face without triggering subtle exclusion. Without triggering raised eyebrows or that shift in tone that signals you went too far.
We have confused harmony with the absence of friction.
Real harmony can survive honesty.
Pretend harmony cannot.
So people learn to read the room before they read themselves. They adjust their tone before examining their thoughts. They scan for approval before they speak.
After years of this, they stop noticing when they are pretending.
It becomes automatic.
You laugh at jokes you do not find funny.
You nod at ideas you do not believe.
You condemn things publicly you barely care about privately.
You curate your personality like a profile.
Just enough edge to seem authentic.
Just enough conformity to remain safe.
Selective vulnerability.
Strategic honesty.
Preapproved flaws.
Nothing that truly costs you.
Because that is the boundary.
You can be honest as long as it does not threaten your position. Authentic as long as it does not challenge hierarchy. Real as long as no one feels uncomfortable.
The moment it does, you are labeled.
Difficult.
Intense.
Negative.
Unprofessional.
So people trim themselves gradually
And eventually the mask fuses to the face.
The unsettling part is not that people pretend.
It is that they begin to prefer pretending.
Because it is easier.
Pretend capability gets praise.
Pretend compassion gets approval.
Pretend outrage gets belonging.
Real capability involves risk.
Real compassion demands sacrifice.
Real honesty carries consequences.
And consequences are what we spend most of our lives trying to avoid.
But you lose yourself in the process.
Appearance overtakes substance. Posture overtakes action. Saying the right thing matters more than meaning it.
We call it professionalism.
Or politeness.
Or even kindness.
But underneath it is fear.
Fear of rejection.
Fear of isolation.
Fear of losing status.
This is why so many conversations feel empty.
You can talk for hours and never touch anything real. Know someone for years and still not know what they actually believe. Be surrounded by people and feel fundamentally unseen.
Because everyone is managing perception.
No one risks disrupting the script.
And that performance is exhausting.
People say they are tired. They blame work, age, responsibilities.
Sometimes they are simply tired of performing.
Tired of pretending competence when they feel lost.
Of pretending compassion when they feel indifferent.
Of pretending outrage when they feel numb.
Tired of pretending they are fine.
A society of pretending produces people who lose track of what is real inside them.
They know what is acceptable.
What is impressive.
What gets applause.
But they do not know what is true.
And that is the tragedy.
Not that people lie.
But that they rarely give themselves the chance to discover who they would be without the mask.
I work privately with a small number of people who feel the quiet weight of something missing, sense a gap between the life they’re living and the life they genuinely want, and care deeply about what’s actually true for them.
Reply if you’d like to know more.
Sincerely,
Milo Morrison