ABOUT THIS WHOLE THING
Just a man with a past and a pen trying not to disappear completely
🕳 About The Untitled Man
I don’t really have a title.
Not because I’m enlightened.
Because I’ve seen what people turn into once they believe their own.
Call it whatever you like, identity, persona, branding.
I call it performance anxiety with a business card.
Most people tell you who they are.
I’ll tell you what I’ve watched.
I’ve watched people defend beliefs they don’t even remember adopting.
I’ve watched intelligence weaponised into avoidance.
I’ve watched people fall in love with their own scripts, then confuse applause for truth.
The Untitled Man wasn’t meant to exist.
He’s just what’s left when you stop pretending to be anyone else.
What this is (and isn’t)
This isn’t a newsletter.
It’s a psychological unmasking with jokes.
It’s what happens when you combine social engineering with empathy, and point it inward.
I write essays for people who:
Feel weirdly exhausted after defending the same idea for the hundredth time
Know they’re performing, but aren’t sure how to stop
Suspect their personality may be less of a “self” and more of a survival strategy
Argue in their head like it’s Wimbledon, then rehearse better lines in the shower.
This isn’t self-help.
It’s self-interrogation.
Who am I?
Does it matter?
Let’s say I spent a long time behind the curtain, watching how people form beliefs, protect illusions, and perform themselves into corners.
Let’s say I’ve worked in places where influence wasn’t a skill—it was a profession.
Where truth was often the least useful tool in the box.
Where watching someone unravel wasn’t the goal, but occasionally the side effect.
And let’s say I got tired of doing that for other people.
So now I write.
Because sometimes the most honest thing you can do with that kind of background… is use it to unwire the mess we call identity, one sentence at a time.
What you’ll find here
Essays that feel like private arguments you haven’t had out loud yet
Gentle sabotage of ideas that looked solid until you stopped blinking
Unlearning, but without the spiritual hashtag
Identity-level questions disguised as casual observations
Humour sharp enough to sting, but warm enough to stay
Why The Untitled Man?
Because I’ve had titles.
And I know how quickly they become masks.
I know how easy it is to start defending the label instead of the life.
Untitled is safer.
Untitled listens longer.
Untitled asks the kind of questions that job titles tend to avoid, like:
“Is this belief helping you, or is it just holding your shape?”
“Who benefits from you needing to be ‘the smart one’?”
“If you stopped performing competence, what would be left?”
Who this is for
If you’ve ever:
Rehearsed a point five times then realised you don’t actually believe it
Mistaken emotional certainty for truth
Felt a strange relief in admitting you might be full of shit
Or laughed while feeling vaguely dismantled...
You’re already halfway home.
What to expect
Emotional discomfort, delivered playfully.
Deep questions asked with a raised eyebrow, not a pointing finger.
The kind of clarity that feels like both a gut punch and a warm towel.
And the unsettling relief that comes when you stop arguing long enough to wonder who you were trying to impress.
This isn’t therapy.
It isn’t preaching.
And it’s not here to sell you a new identity after dismantling the old one.
It’s just a space.
For the untitled parts of you.
The versions not auditioning for anything.
Welcome to The Untitled Man.
Hang your mask at the door.
We’ll keep it safe.
(For now.)
