Becomeing a Shadow

Got it — you want it to feel more like a *story*, not just an article. Here’s a revised 1100-word version that leans into narrative storytelling, w

"The Pretenders: A Story About People Who Lie

to Be Someone They're Not"

Jason wasn’t a bad guy — not really. He was funny, charming, and smart in that fast-talking, always-has-an-answer kind of way. But if you asked him where he went to school, he’d tell you Yale. If you asked what he did for a living, he’d say he ran a marketing agency — “big clients, seven figures.” Truth was, Jason had dropped out of community college and drove Uber between freelance gigs. The lies just came so easily. And once he started, it felt safer to keep going than to ever stop.

I met Jason through a mutual friend at a rooftop party in L.A. He had the kind of energy that filled a room. Confident handshake, expensive cologne, and stories that made you lean in. At first, I believed him — most people did. He wasn’t trying to scam anyone; he just wanted to *be* someone.

That’s the thing about people who lie to pretend they’re something they’re not — it’s rarely about greed. More often, it’s about longing. A quiet ache to be accepted, seen, respected. And in a world where appearances are everything, it’s dangerously easy to fake it.

The First Lie Is the Easiest

Jason once told me that the first time he lied about his career, he was just trying to impress a girl. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he said. “I just said I owned a startup. It sounded better than ‘I’m between jobs.’”

But that little lie turned into another. Then another. Soon, he had to keep up with the story — fake LinkedIn, rented Airbnbs that looked like luxury condos, a borrowed suit for client meetings that never really happened. “You just... become the version of yourself you wish you were,” he said.

He wasn’t alone.

There was Emma, a friend-of-a-friend who curated her online presence so meticulously, you’d think she lived in a fashion magazine. Designer handbags, constant travel, skin that glowed. Only she didn’t really own the bags. Or travel much. She was drowning in debt, and the glow? Instagram filters. But online, she was *somebody*.

Then there was Alex, who faked a degree to get a job he wasn’t qualified for. When he got promoted, he panicked. Every day became a performance, a silent terror that someone would discover the truth.

None of them were trying to hurt anyone. They were just tired of being invisible.

Why Do People Pretend?

It’s not always about status or money. Sometimes people lie to seem more interesting, more worldly, more lovable. Sometimes it’s about survival — fitting in, staying safe, avoiding judgment. And sometimes, they don’t even know they’re pretending anymore. The line between who they are and who they’re playing gets blurred.

Society doesn’t help. From an early age, we’re told to “put on a good face,” “sell yourself,” “stand out.” Social media takes that pressure and turns it up to eleven. On Instagram, everyone’s on a yacht, in love, thriving. On LinkedIn, everyone’s a thought leader. It creates a culture where real life feels like failure, and pretending feels like the only way to keep up.

The Cost of the Mask

But the thing about pretending is that it costs you more than you realize.

Jason eventually got caught. Someone he’d lied to — a girl he dated for months — found out he wasn’t who he claimed. She told others. Word spread. Suddenly, the invites stopped. The texts slowed. He told me once, “The worst part wasn’t losing friends. It was realizing none of them ever really knew me. Because I never let them.”

Emma started therapy after she had a panic attack in the middle of a photo shoot she’d set up just for Instagram. She said she didn’t even know what she liked anymore. “I was trying so hard to be someone else that I forgot who I was,” she admitted. “I couldn’t even tell if I liked the clothes I wore or if I was just wearing what looked good online.”

Alex eventually confessed to his boss. He got fired, sure — but he said it was the first time in years he felt like he could breathe.

Because here’s the truth: the longer you pretend, the lonelier you become. You might be surrounded by people, but if you’re not being yourself, the connection isn’t real. It’s like screaming from behind a glass wall, hoping someone hears the *real* you.

The Power of Owning Your Story

There’s a strange freedom in telling the truth. It’s terrifying at first — like stepping into daylight after years in a costume. But once you do, something shifts.

Jason started over. Got a real job in a small ad agency. It wasn’t flashy, but it was honest. He started telling people the truth, even when it felt vulnerable. “Some people respect me more now,” he said. “Others ghosted. But the ones who stayed? They know *me*. And that feels... solid.”

Emma scaled back her social media. She still posts, but it’s different now. Less polished. More human. And she says she’s happier. “I don’t feel like I’m living a lie anymore,” she said. “I’m just living.”

Alex took coding classes, got certified, and found another job — this time the right way. “I still feel like I have something to prove,” he told me. “But at least I’m not lying to myself.”

Maybe You’ve Done It Too

Maybe your lies are smaller. Maybe you say “I’m fine” when you’re not. Maybe you laugh at jokes you don’t like to fit in. Maybe you pretend to be more confident, more successful, more in control than you really feel. We all wear masks sometimes. But when the mask becomes your whole identity — that’s when it gets dangerous.

So here’s the question: who are you *really*, underneath all that?

Because pretending might help you survive for a while. But it won’t help you *live*.

Final Thought

You don’t need to be perfect. You don’t need to impress everyone. You don’t need to lie to be loved.

You just need to be real.

And that’s enough.