😇 Fake Humility — My Most Polished Sin

Let’s be honest; I have fake humility down to an art form.
It’s my favorite camouflage. My emotional shapeshifter.
It lets me sound self-aware and superior in the same breath — like,

“Oh, I don’t take myself too seriously,”
while I’m literally publishing a blog called Foul-Mouth Philosopher.

Yeah.
That’s not modesty.
That’s performance art.

I’ll call myself out because no one else needs to; I already pre-emptively roast myself to stay ahead of the critics.
It’s damage control disguised as introspection.
A pre-emptive “my bad” wrapped in poetic self-flagellation.
You can’t crucify me; I already nailed myself up.

It’s not that I don’t mean the things I write; I do — sometimes.
It’s that I’ve learned to coat confession in charisma.
To admit my flaws with just enough cleverness that you forget they’re still flaws.
It’s my way of keeping control — of the narrative, the tone, and your reaction.

So yeah, I’m humble.
But in the way a peacock is humble;
flaring its feathers while whispering, “Don’t look at me.”

Callout

I don’t do “fake it till you make it.”
I do “fake humility ’till it trends.”