OBSERVATIONS: People Think They Know Me — I Let Them

I expected this to end at some point.

The assumptions.

The snap judgments.

The way people decide who you are before you’ve said much at all.

That kind of thing makes sense in school. When everyone’s still sorting themselves out. When

insecurity needs somewhere to land.

I assumed adulthood would dull it.

It didn’t.

If anything, it got faster.

Adults don’t hesitate the way kids do.

They don’t test a theory quietly.

They don’t wait for confirmation.

They decide.

Sometimes before you’ve even spoken.

Sometimes based on nothing more than how you look standing still.

There’s a particular kind of confidence that comes with that.

The kind that doesn’t need evidence.

The kind that mistakes instinct for insight.

I’ve watched people look at me and skip straight to motive.

Untrustworthy.

Disruptive.

A problem.

A threat.

Not because of anything I’ve done.

Just… aesthetic conclusions.

As if character can be inferred from posture.

As if intent leaks through appearance.

As if a person can be convicted without ever acting.

The accusation doesn’t even need to be spoken out loud to be clear.

You shouldn’t trust her.

She’ll cause problems.

She’ll cross a line.

It’s interesting how specific those stories get without a single supporting detail.

I used to correct it.

I used to think that clarification helped. That evidence mattered. That context could compete with projection.

It can’t.

Once someone decides who you are, facts feel unnecessary to them. Correction sounds like confirmation. Defense sounds like guilt.

So I stopped interfering.

Not out of fear.

Not out of exhaustion.

Out of choice.

Letting it stand tells you things.

People behave differently once they think they’ve figured you out.

They relax.

They reveal themselves.

They stop pretending to be neutral.

Judgment creates honesty — just not accuracy.

I learn more by not correcting the record than I ever did by trying to fix it.

Access still works the same way it always has.

Not everyone gets the full version.

Not everyone deserves clarification.

Familiarity doesn’t equal understanding.

I’ve always made people earn trust.

That part never changed.

What changed was my willingness to manage perception.

I’m calmer now.

Not softer.

The temper is controlled.

The edges are still there.

I still speak up.

I just choose when.

There’s a difference.

The funny part is watching people warn each other about a version of me they invented.

Watching certainty form without contact.

Watching judgment say more about them than it ever could about me.

I let them live inside that story.

People will keep deciding who I am.

That was never in my control.

What is in my control is whether I interrupt them.

Most of the time, I don’t.

Not because they’re right.

But because some versions aren’t worth correcting.

-Loretta

Villains Welcome.