I realized I had a gift for acting at a young age. It began when I played a beggar in a church role-play, scavenging through a trash can for food. Although it seemed like a simple role, it was a turning point for me. I saw the audience's reaction—some even cried. That’s when it hit me: I was good at acting. What surprised me was that this wasn’t limited to the stage; I could act in real life, too. I could hide my true feelings from everyone, even when I cared deeply or was affected by something.
This poem from Kalpesh Desai’s Jasmines In Her Hair, “Just Because,” resonates with me because it reflects this hidden part of myself. Just because I don’t show my emotions doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I can hide how much I care, and most people would never know.
A People Pleaser at Heart
From an early age, I’ve been a people pleaser. But being a people pleaser wasn’t about being unable to say no—it wasn’t fake either. I genuinely wanted others to be better versions of themselves. I always tried to see things from their perspective, to understand their behavior and why they acted the way they did. If I could keep everyone around me happy, things would run smoothly.
I acted this way because I wanted people to feel understood and supported. And, in a way, this ability to act came into play. I could adapt to different situations, determine what people wanted from me, and make them feel at ease. But it wasn’t all sunshine. Over time, I started to realize that not everyone valued my effort. Some people took advantage of it.
And that’s when I learned to set boundaries.
Learning Boundaries: Enough is Enough
One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned is that respect isn’t something people have to earn from me; I give freely. Everyone starts with respect. But disrespect? That’s different. I realized that when someone repeatedly disrespects me, I don’t owe them endless empathy or care. That’s when my boundaries come into play.
Now, when someone crosses those lines, I no longer feel the need to please them. I don’t have to be rude, but I don’t have to continue investing emotional energy into them. I maintain civility but stop giving them access to my deeper self. It’s a balance of kindness and self-protection, something I’ve had to work on over the years.
Acting Off-Stage: Hiding My True Feelings
Acting in school plays was always a thrill. I often got the lead roles, which helped me build my confidence. But this ability to act extended into real life as well. I could hide my true feelings behind a mask, and no one would ever know how deeply I cared or how much something hurt me.
This isn’t always a good thing. As the poem says, “Just because I couldn’t show it, doesn’t mean I didn’t care.” Sometimes, people didn’t realize how much situations affected me because I kept it all hidden. I could fool everyone—even the people closest to me.
The Guilt of Lying: An Uncomfortable Talent
Another aspect of acting is lying—something I’m good at, though I don’t like to admit it. It’s not that I enjoy lying, but I’ve noticed that I’m quite skilled at it. But here’s the catch: lying makes me feel awful. The guilt gnaws at me whenever I do, and I can’t let it go. If the lie isn’t protecting something truly important, I must confess the truth almost immediately.
I’ve learned to distinguish between lies necessary to keep and those that aren’t. When it’s not worth protecting, I quickly backtrack. I’ll say, “I was just joking,” and then confess the truth. My conscience can’t bear the weight of dishonesty, even though I’m good at it.
An Open Book: Choosing What I Reveal
If I had to describe myself, I’d say I’m an open book—but I choose which pages people get to see. On the surface, I might seem easy to read, as though I’m transparent and open with everyone. But the truth is, I carefully decide what I reveal to others. There are certain parts of me, certain experiences or emotions, that I choose to keep hidden, not out of fear but out of the knowledge that not everyone deserves access to those parts of me.
This approach allows me to balance my desire to be authentic with my need to protect myself. I still care deeply about people and want the best for them, but I’ve learned that not everyone deserves to see my vulnerability.
Just Because I Hide It Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Feel It
Like the poem “Just Because” says, just because I hide my emotions doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Acting has given me a way to navigate life gracefully. Still, it has also taught me the importance of setting boundaries, being honest, and protecting the parts of myself that matter most.
Acting is more than just pretending—it’s a way to protect, adapt, and survive in a world that doesn’t always appreciate vulnerability. But even though I’ve learned to hide my emotions well, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel them. Just because I’m good at acting doesn’t mean I’m not real.
Ultimately, I’m still an open book—but only I decide which pages you get to see.
By Fleur Diane Magno