The short answer is no, but you already knew that. The real question is: Why do we think that?
Walking around campus, it is hard to avoid seeing classmates with better grades than me, trendier clothes that I told myself I couldn’t rock, and larger friend groups that I am too intimidated to approach. It is usually a fleeting thought, but sometimes I catch myself falling into a trap of shallow, self-deprecating conviction.
I know I am not alone in this dilemma, as almost every friend I have ever spoken to has known someone they see as having “everything” that they themselves do not. Why do we think this and project our insecurities onto unknowing subjects whom we have convinced ourselves are faultless?
Perhaps this stems from social media. In an age where we see each others’ Bitmojis and profile pictures more than our faces in day-to-day life, it is easy to have someone’s online identity become the only thing you recognise about them. Every meticulously planned post showing off expensive clothing with an almost AI-looking backdrop doesn’t stay an online fairytale, but instead becomes the reality you perceive them as living in. We see what everyone wants us to see, and it is hard to remember that not everything is as manicured as they portray. We know it’s not real, but we can’t help but look at our own lives and wonder why it doesn’t look like theirs.
This doesn’t just elude our immediate social circle. Although we understand that what we see on social media platforms, like Instagram and TikTok, are fake, that doesn’t mean we don’t internalise the standards set by perfectly plastic filters and unachievable micro-trends. We instantly deem ourselves unworthy of being “cool” if we fail to have the never-ending, ever-changing laundry-list of “it-girl” qualities. Following this self-inflicted rejection, we look outward, set on the prowl for someone we can project our desires onto, regardless of whether they have them or not. These do not have to be strangers: these can be friends, partners, and even family.
Why do we do it even though we know it’s all fake? This is a psychological defence mechanism, where we place others on pedestals above us to divert our attention from our own perceived shortcomings and protect our egos. We over-idealise them, viewing them as flawless, and treating them as something to aspire to, as we do not believe the good qualities we see in them belong to us. We devalue ourselves and overestimate other people, constantly comparing each other. Once this hierarchy is in place, it instantly creates barriers in conversations, relationships, and trust. In an attempt to impress them, one may lie about their life and how they’re really doing. Not just to others, but to themselves. For every fake story we tell, we beg for our idol to want to like us, so we can be a little bit like them. But this is not how friendships form, and with every lie, we disconnect from ourselves, and subsequently from others.
For how irrational it sounds, it is not uncommon. The way I have found to counteract these destructive habits is to be honest with myself. Understand how I am, who I am, what I know is real about my life, and what is an unachievable standard I have assumed upon myself. No one is above me, no one is below me — everyone is struggling and thriving just as much as I am, and I am no longer seeking refuge in others for my own insecurities. Breaking these barriers down has been essential to my growth in relationships with not only the people around me, but with myself. No one is doing better than you, no matter what your phone, ego, or brain tells you.
Photo by Matilde Impavido for The Student.
