A.S. Thorne

Some days, I feel like a walking contradiction.
Let’s be real…most days.

I am two people.

One of me is polished (ish) and professional. The version who shows up early and is usually the last one to leave. The one who answers emails with a steady hand and smiles so no one asks if she’s okay. The one who’s so good at pretending she’s not unraveling, she almost believes the performance herself.

This version is the advocate—answering the crisis line at 3 a.m., the voice in the darkness, sitting with you while you search for the light.

This version is the grad student—fighting to stay two weeks ahead on homework because my anxiety doesn’t trust tomorrow to show up on time.

And then there’s the other one.

The one who writes under a name that isn’t exactly a secret—but still feels like armor.
The version who says the things I’m too polite or too afraid to say out loud.
The one who doesn’t apologize for being messy, angry, complicated.

A.S. literally stands for Another Self. The name was chosen on purpose.

Both of them are me.
And that’s allowed.

I don’t always know which voice is louder on any given day—the one that believes in what I’m building or the one that hisses that I’m faking it all.

I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’ve earned my place at the table.
I don’t know if the book will sell, or if the work will matter, or if the mask will ever fully come off.

But here’s what I do know:

Not knowing doesn’t make me an impostor.
It makes me human.

Maybe uncertainty is where possibility lives—where you can be both the person who doubts and the person who dares.

So yes—I am both.
The one who hides behind a carefully curated version of herself.
And the one who tells the truth with her whole chest.

Both are real.
Both are brave in their own way.
And both are enough.

Sometimes I wonder what people will think when they see all my edges instead of the polished version I try so hard to maintain. It’s terrifying to be seen – and somehow even more terrifying not to be.

To the people who know me offline—who’ve seen both sides—thank you for holding space for all of it, even when I’m still learning how to do that myself.

I don’t have it all figured out.
I’m not sure I ever will.

But I’m here, saying the things I’m scared to say—even if it feels like pretending.
And today, that feels like enough.

Maybe carrying more than one version of myself isn’t a flaw. It’s the reason I can hold space for other people’s stories as well as my own.

If you’ve ever felt like you’re living with more than one version of yourself—like you’re straddling the line between who you are and who you’re becoming—you’re not alone.

💬 Tell me about your “two selves” if you want to share. I’d love to know them. All of them. Because we’re allowed to be more than one thing. And maybe that’s the bravest part of all.

🖤 A.S. Thorne