Living in the Comments

✍️ Curious how this post came together? Here’s the behind-the-scenes breakdown →

There’s a specific kind of tension that lives between finishing a post and hitting publish.

It’s not doubt. It’s not imposter syndrome.
It’s the imaginary comment section already firing up in my head.

“Why didn’t you mention X?”
“That’s not how it works in my experience.”
“You sound full of yourself.”
“This isn’t that deep.”

I’ve written whole paragraphs not because they were helpful—but because I was trying to preempt that guy in the comments. I’ve buried my clearest point under caveats. I’ve stripped out emotion so no one could accuse me of being dramatic. I’ve sanitized so thoroughly, I’ve lost the very voice I was trying to trust.

And then I wonder why it didn’t feel honest.

I Don’t Fear Critique. I Fear Misreading.

It’s not disagreement that haunts me—it’s misalignment.
When someone reacts to a version of me that I don’t recognize.

When they take the most generous thing I could say and assume I meant it cynically.
When they think I’m preaching when I was just processing.
When they think I’m sure of myself when I’m still figuring it out.

Honestly, it’s the Key & Peele Misunderstood Text sketch—except I’m both guys.
I’m the one who wrote the thing, and the one reading it back with a full imaginary fight loaded in.

“Oh it’s ON now…”
“Hey man, want to meet up?”
“I WILL DESTROY YOU.”

That’s what makes me hesitate.
Not because I don’t believe what I said—but because I know how easily tone can slip, meaning can warp, and intent can evaporate between speaker and screen.

So I end up writing not just the post, but the defense of the post.
Anticipating every possible misread. Pre-litigating myself. Editing for approval that hasn’t even been denied yet.

And That’s the Trap

When I live in the comments before the post is even published, I’m no longer writing from truth.
I’m writing from fear.

Fear of looking arrogant. Fear of getting it wrong. Fear of silence.
Fear of people agreeing for the wrong reason.
Fear of no one reacting at all.

But here’s the thing:
That fear doesn’t keep me safe. It just keeps me small.
It makes the writing blander, the insights softer, the signal fuzzier.

And if I’m going to publish anything at all, I’d rather it be real than pre-approved by ghosts.

So This Is Me, Posting Anyway

Not because I’m sure I’m right.
Not because I’ve hedged every edge.
But because I’m trying to write from the inside out—not the outside in.

And if you see something different than I meant, that’s okay.
At least it’s mine. At least it’s honest.