One month passed by, and I was living my life with two faces, like always. I don't know if I have two personalities or what it really is. I've never been to a psychologist because I've always managed to solve my problems on my own. I don't want to make other people worry. I just want everyone to be happy.
I still haven't told anyone about this — not even my close friends or family.
When I was little, I was always alone. I played with my "friends." But can a person really have true friends at that age? Those people were just kids I knew — people who had the potential to become real friends. I was truly alone.
At that time, I often got remarks from teachers, my parents, and even from the psychologist who tested my IQ. They said I was very intelligent and that I'd achieve great things in life. The test measured my IQ at over 140, because apparently young children can't officially score higher than that. I always felt like I had to give people what they expected from me. But even back then, I didn't know what that thing was — and I still don't.
At home, I usually played alone because my father was always at work. And even on the days he was home, he often gave priority to his friends. My mother was on maternity leave, and when it ended, she stayed at home for about twelve years. Later, when she talked to me about that period of her life, she told me she had felt isolated and lonely. I always thought my father was a bit emotionally distant. He owned a structural engineering company and had a lot of work.
My parents didn't have a great relationship. They were never married, and after a while, they started to argue. During those times, I would stay in my room and play with something — LEGO Technic or puzzles. I could hear everything, and at the age of six or seven, I began to understand some of it. But despite their problems, they both loved me and gave me the best life they could, even though they didn't love each other. When I was seven, I made my first real friend — and we're still friends to this day.
I think my "two faces" started back then. I realized that being funny and silly was better than being nerdy and all-knowing, so I locked that part of me away in chains and only used it when I needed to — I didn't let it control me. That was probably the beginning. Around the age of fourteen, that other face started to show again, but in a different way. I used to think at night about life and big philosophical questions. I never found any answers, but I thought that life was beautiful and perfect.
But things changed when I was fifteen. I started to feel that there was no reason to live, and those feelings came to me unexpectedly. My "other face" was still happy and positive, but deep down I began to doubt that philosophy — and I don't know what triggered it. It felt strange because I had the best life anyone could wish for, yet I was sad and pessimistic. I began to hate that side of me and tried not to let it take over.
When I was sixteen, it hit me — what if this was a different personality? Or what if this was the real me, and the happy me was just a mask? I didn't know what to think. I wondered how sweet death might be. I thought about how I would do it, and how other people would react. I wanted to go away in a way that wouldn't cause anyone pain. But that isn't possible — my parents would be sad under any circumstances. These thoughts usually came to me at night, about twice a week.
But there's one thing I despise — suicide. Because it's giving up on life. Even if life has no meaning, it's still worth living. You can live to the fullest even without a purpose — because you can have happiness, fun, and love. You should live for yourself — not for God, not for some grand purpose — but just to be happy. Even without meaning, happiness exists, and it often comes from other people. They can make you happy. So you should make them happy too. That way, it becomes a full circle. There's no need to worry them with my problems.
I think this is something that both of my "faces" — my "two personalities" — have come to agree on. They both see how beautiful life is, yet they also believe that life has no meaning, that after death there's only darkness and nothingness. That our actions don't matter because everything eventually fades away. And that's the lie of life — like fake plastic trees.