I’m not a nice girl. Or at least, I don’t want to be.
I don’t want to be the girl that gets the job because she’s nice (to work with). I want to be the girl that gets the job because she’s so good at what she does. I don’t want to be the nice friend that’s in people’s facebook friend list because I like their posts. I want to be the friend that is actually there for my friend in good and bad times.
As I mature and start forming my own opinions towards life based on experiences, and starting getting into conversations with mentors and people I admire; one thing that always come up during our chats is “and what’s stopping you from being yourself?”. It seems clear that in being nice, I’ve lost control in being authentic. I am trapped by my pride, by how others think of me if I say or do anything which might offend anyone. I am trapped by the potential of messing things there ain’t broken or need fixing. I am afraid of being impulsively bullish for the wrong reasons. I care about being judged.
But if there’s anything I’ve learnt about being “nice” and being associated with it (yes, ask anyone who knows me to describe me and chances are that you’ll hear this word pop up 70% of the time) is that it comes with a set of expectations and obligations. You’re expected to conform to other people’s beliefs, obliged to agree with their decisions, go along with their wants, be all willing to help out with favours whenever expected and basically be as likeable as possible. After all, it is easier to be liked than disliked. Says the girl that was dropped out of a few social group the moment she stopped going along with general consensus and started voicing out her opinions.
So I’m not a nice girl. I can be easy-going and generous, but piss me or any of the people I care about off, and I’m not going to bother putting you down nicely or politely.
Or I might. We’ll see. I’m still working on that bit.