By Roshan Jayasinghe
“We do not suffer because we are incomplete.
We suffer because we have forgotten how to flow.”
There is something universal—perhaps even sacred—in the way we study others.
Before we even know who we are, we begin watching.
Not with wonder, but with necessity.
Not to discover, but to survive.
We adapt. We mimic. We edit ourselves.
And slowly, silently, we become someone other than who we were.
We perform.
And in the process, a single thought emerges:
“Maybe I am not enough as I am.”
But where does this thought come from?
Is it born in us? Or is it seeded by the world?
We are not born incomplete.
We are born open.
And yet from a young age, we are surrounded by systems that reward the mask more than
the essence.
We learn to be seen, not to be.
The Performer: Born of Brilliant Observation
The part we play is not weakness—it is intelligence.
It is the child learning which masks are safe, which tones are loved, which identities are
allowed to stay.
We do not betray ourselves because we are flawed.
We betray ourselves because we are observant.
And when we witness others being validated for their performance,
we slowly conclude: “Perhaps who I am is not enough.”
So we begin to curate.
We chase what others seem to have.
We study their rhythms, their confidence, their ease—and we try to replicate it.
But here’s the quiet truth:
Most of what we envy in others…
is a part they are playing too.
The Thought That Keeps the Role Alive
The thought “I am not enough” isn’t truth.
It’s a performance in itself.
It’s a rehearsed script, recited daily by a mind that has forgotten how to trust its own source.
That thought doesn’t arise from the soul.
It arises from separation—from the mind’s attempt to interpret a world of mirrors and
masks.
And it convinces us to strive.
To measure ourselves against an image.
To long for a wholeness that already exists—but which we’ve stopped recognizing.
The Return to Flow
Eventually, something shifts.
Not with fireworks, but with stillness.
You begin to pause.
You begin to observe the one who is observing.
You ask not “How can I be more like them?”
but “Who told me I wasn’t already enough?”
And in that moment, something unravels.
The thought loses its grip.
The part loosens its hold.
The striving softens.
And in its place…
you begin to feel something else.Flow.
The original rhythm of life that existed before the performance began.
The Other Side of the Part
Then, one day, the part we were playing simply falls away.
You wake up and realize: There’s no one I’m trying to be.
No image to project.
No perfection to chase.
No other life to compare with your own.
You are no longer seeking yourself in someone else’s reflection.
You are no longer adjusting, mimicking, pretending.
You are simply here.
Breathing.
Present.
Whole.
What It Feels Like
It feels like freedom, but quieter.
Like confidence, but humbler.
Like joy, but without the performance.
You are not “on.”
You are with.
With yourself.
With this moment.
With what is real.
You stop needing the world to mirror your worth.
You stop translating silence as rejection.
You stop needing to win, to prove, to impress.
You start living.
The Part Was Never the Problem
Looking back, you see the role you played was never your enemy.
It was your bridge.
The path you took until you were ready to come home.
We needed to perform—until we no longer did.
We needed to forget—until remembering became the only truth left.
And now… you know.
“You don’t need to find yourself.
You only need to stop pretending to be someone else.”
“There is no greater arrival than the moment you no longer need to arrive.”
Closing Reflection
The illusion was never about who others were.
It was about who we thought we needed to be.
And the liberation?
It’s not out there.
It’s in here.
In the still, sound, sufficient space
where you no longer need to play the part—
because you are living the truth.
About the Author
Roshan Jayasinghe is a humanist thinker and emerging writer based in California. With a background in administration and a deep passion for social equity, he explores the intersections of politics, identity, and compassion through a lens grounded in nature’s own self-correcting wisdom.
Roshan Jayasinghe
Rooted in the belief that humanity can realign with the natural order where balance, regeneration, and interdependence are inherent. Roshan’s reflections invite readers to pause, question, and reimagine the systems we live within. His writing seeks not to impose answers, but to spark thought and awaken a deeper awareness of our shared human journey. Roshan will be sharing weekly articles that gently challenge, inspire, and reconnect us to what matters most.
