I needed to have that Fender Jaguar. It wasn’t just any guitar. It wasn’t even any Fender Jaguar. I could bore you with the technical specifications that made it so impossibly perfect, but it all comes down to that I needed to have it. After selling my other guitar and doing some pleading with my parents, I could afford to buy the Fender Jaguar.

I then proceeded to keep the guitar sequestered in my room, never to play it in public. Throughout high school, I amassed a collection of several guitars. Some were acoustic, some were electric, but they all had an audience of one.

I never played in public before college. I was never the guy in the band.

When I came to college, I met friends who wanted to play music. Eventually, it came to the point where we would start playing live. I was hesitant, to say the least. I freaked myself out with all of the what-ifs and maybes.

What was a fun experience was complicated by my personal phobias? It wasn’t the prospect of messing up that scared me; we all knew our instruments and it was just an open mic night. It was the idea of playing in public that scared me. Publicly broadcasting, the thing that was important to me, was a scary idea, especially because of how long I kept it a relative secret.

Flash forward a year and a half or so — last night I headlined a show. It was in a rec room basement. A solid number of people showed up, but I wasn’t nervous. We played a set fraught with sound issues and little mistakes. It was still a good one, though.

I had, in one way, become the guy in the band. But I’m also more than that.

I’m comfortable enough with who I am to understand that labels are meaningless, or at least inherently incomplete.

People are rarely the kind of person they publicly project. Maybe you’re a football player who’s an anime nerd underneath. Maybe you’re an honor student that’s secretly a huge stoner. And maybe you’re a quiet awkward kid who blasts Bad Brains and draws tattoos in the sanctity of his bedroom.

Hiding parts of your identity because you’re afraid of how other people will see you is a good way to drive yourself crazy. Being yourself is difficult, but it’s also simple. You never have to worry about what someone else thinks before making a decision.

Simply put, living authentically is living simply. I’m still not at peace with myself in every respect. Maybe even less than most people. But any step toward authenticity is an accomplishment.

I recognize that being more authentic is a task that’s more difficult for some than others. My situation is fortunate enough that I was able to grow. People in more difficult and oppressive situations don’t have that luxury. But my call for authenticity still stands. When more of us are at peace with ourselves, more of us will be at peace with each other.