Superbia is not a grand theatrical declaration of ‘I am better than you,’ but often much more mundane: the constant building of walls around oneself so that others cannot see who one really is.

Arrogance is a reaction, not an origin. It is a mechanism that arises when vulnerability becomes dangerous. When closeness means losing control. When one has learned that weakness will be exploited. Then superiority becomes a protective shield.

Superbia means: ‘I keep my distance by placing myself above everything else.’ It appears strong on the outside, but is fragile on the inside.

This category captures all those moments: situations in which distance seemed more important than connection. Decisions made less out of arrogance than out of self-protection.

The texts here are not embarrassing or remorseful, but sober. The aim is to make the mechanism visible without justifying it.

Superbia is a space to analyse when pride became a substitute — for real security, for recognition, for the feeling of being in control.

This is not about feeling guilty, but about understanding: arrogance is the mask you wear when you don't dare to be vulnerable. Those who understand Superbia recognise how much fear lies behind it — and why we sometimes end up there anyway.

These articles provide clarity on how this protection works, when it takes effect and why it influences relationships, self-image and decisions in the long term. Superbia is an honest look at our own reflex to appear “higher” in order to avoid being hurt more deeply.

I work with it because I know the quiet arrogance that emerges when you constantly overburden yourself and then believe you know better. For me, pride is less about superiority and more about a protective armour. I want to understand when it kicks in — so that I can remain honest instead of hiding behind a façade.