Most people don’t realize when they’ve built an avatar.

It happens slowly.
It’s usually rewarded.
And it almost always starts with survival.

You find a version of yourself that works and you stick with it.

Anthony the funny guy.
The reliable one.
The strong one.
The savior.

The problem isn’t that the avatar is fake.
The problem is that it becomes mandatory.

Chris Farley didn’t die because he was funny.
He died because the excess that made his comedy work was the same excess destroying him.

A lot of people are terrified to change the parts of themselves they hate because those parts are attached to the identity that created success.

That was true for me.

Dropping the avatar came with consequences.

People noticed.
People asked questions.
People were uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong with you?”
“You’ve changed.”

Nothing was wrong.

I was just more serious than people realized.
More intense.
Less willing to perform.

Here’s the hard truth:

The version of you that gets the most approval is often the one that costs you the most to maintain.

Questions worth asking:

Which version of you feels compulsory?

What would happen if you let it soften or die?

Who benefits from you staying the same?

You don’t lose yourself all at once.
You lose yourself in exchange for applause.