We're All Just Onions

The other day, I was at the mall with Stacy. For the most part, she’s very open and comfortable with herself, which is why I respect her so much.
“I decided I’m going to become a music publicist,” she said randomly as we entered the fourth store of the night. Stacy always changed her future career. One day it’s a finance writer and the next a CEO, but no matter what they were always high paying jobs. She shifted through racks and without making the slightest turn of her head she asked, “What do you want to be?”. “A magazine columnist,” I answered casually. Suddenly, her attention shifted and a look of disbelief was displayed across her face. “Well, you have to be really good at writing to do that,” she replied after a pause.
Now, even though I’m no Shakespeare by any means, her words disheartened me. It’s not that she thinks I’m bad at writing; it’s that she doesn’t even know me. Stacy, my best friend, doesn’t know how passionate I am about writing. For that matter, probably none of my friends do.
Not only the writing aspect either, there is a completely different side of me no one sees, no one hears, no one knows. Katie is the only exception; she’s the only one who understands my complexities. I’m like an onion, as Shrek would say, I have many layers. Inside, I keep my thoughts, my maturity, my ideals, my sadness. Usually, you’ll just see me being crazy, making people laugh, or saying something completely random. Even though that is me, it’s not the whole me, it’s just a layer. So the next time you meet someone (or the next time you watch Shrek), remember we all have layers and to peel back these layers, you need a little time to ripen.