Have you ever felt that no one really knows you? That no one knows all of the layers that you possess, all the thoughts bouncing around in your brain, all your annoying quirks, all the things you do when you're alone? I recently read a blog that forced me to ask myself; is is really others' faults that my true self is unknown to them, or is it mine?

As a child, I was known as Belle. Beauty and the Beast had been my all-time favorite movie; it rarely left the VCR, and on the rare occasion it did, it was followed closely by another screening a few hours later. I was Belle four Halloweens in a row, so enchanted was I with her beauty and grace. I wanted to be her.

In second grade, I was known as IQ. This quirky nickname was jokingly suggested by Ms. Wellie, a smiley woman with an open face and loud laugh, and it stuck untill the beginning of middle school. It fit reasonably well; I was a brainiac, always reading and doing extra work. IQ became my identity.

In middle school, I didn't really have an identity. I passed from group to group of friends. Some bitterly ended, some just grew apart like friendships so often tragically do. Nothing was permanent enough to establish a persona, to give the illusion of being known.

That changed in eigth grade. I became known as Tyler Struther's friend, at times girlfriend. (Or as girlfriend-ish as you can get in the eigth grade. Our relationship consisted of blushing and kissing a few times.) People associated us with one another, and people who did not know my name called my "Tyler's friend." They assumed we were the same person. Not that this was a bad place to be; Tyler was entertaining, exuberant, and altogether wonderful to be around. He is now gay. Ironic, I know.

Now, it is high school. I believe I am known as the girl who is always laughing, the girl who is always flirting, the girl who is always moving, or the girl who is always with her friends. It's not a terrible identity to have. It's a happy, peaceful, addictive way of life. To be constantly in motion, smiling, laughing, and generally having a great time must be a blast. Too bad that is not who I truely am.

Are we what people believe us to be? If our true persona exsists only to ourselves, is it really real?

I have come to realize that people believe what they see. They believe in this mirage of a girl who is perpetually happy and smiling. They believe that that is who I am because that is what I put out for the world to see.

I cannot blame the world for not knowing me. I cannot place blame on any single person but myself. It is not the universe's fault that I have hidden my dark corners away for no one to see. "If they cannot be seen, they are not real." That is the mentality of the universe.
 
At no point in my life have a been "Belle." I have never been named "IQ." I most certainly am not a nameless nomad, nor "Tyler Struthers friend/girlfriend." Oh, and I am definitly not always smiling. People have percieved me as this because it is what I give them to percieve.

This realization is bittersweet to say the least. I do not want to be known as "the girl who is always laughing." That is not who I am. But if I truely want the world to see my identity, dark corners and all, it means I have to project it. Projecting my corners for the world to see is the scariest thought of all. But I need to try, or risk losing that identity forever.

I have always believed in finding intelect in children's literature and movies. Shrek has famously quoted "Ogres are like onions. They have layers." I believe everyone is like an onion, and we all have an infinite number of layers. But to be truely known, we must peel back the skin, take a chance that it will make us cry, and explore the layers underneath. We must give people the chance to examine our layers, to see the bad and the good, and to know who you really are.

Who does the world see you as? And, more importantly, how do you want it to see you?