The Cost Of No Shame

When I was a kid, I was painfully shy.

Embarrassment followed me like a shadow. One wrong word, one clumsy move, and I wanted to vanish.

I admired the people who never seemed to feel that way. You know the ones. Bold and unshakable, never stopping to wonder what anyone thinks.

I thought they were the lucky ones. Life must be easier, I figured, when nothing makes you shrink.

I don’t admire them anymore.

Because now I see them everywhere. People who seem untouched by self-consciousness. They speak and wound and perform without the faintest sign of discomfort. They laugh at cruelty. They carry on as if nothing costs anything. Embarrassment doesn’t reach them. Shame doesn’t interrupt them. From golf matches to political rallies, from talk shows to social feeds, it’s all confidence without care.

I once imagined life without embarrassment would be freedom. It isn’t. It’s emptiness. A world where anything can be said, anyone can be diminished, and nothing stands in the way of going too far.

I still feel that small turning inside when dignity is under threat...mine or ours. It’s small, but alive. A fragile light. And I hold onto it, because I'm afraid of what it will mean if the light finally goes out.