Day 252: Perception

Hello wild ones! I hope this Thursday evening finds you well.

Do you ever wish you could read other people’s thoughts? It’s something I’ve been contemplating as of late. I believe it is linked to my love of books, in a book I can literally read what someone else is thinking, even if that person is a work of fiction. I never have to wonder what silly thoughts are wandering across their minds, I merely have to turn the page and all of their deepest fears and secrets revealed to me.

The world would be a very dangerous place if we could all read each other’s thoughts, but all the same there are times I sincerely wish I at least had the ability. Undoubtedly that wish would backfire almost immediately, but I just think it would yield some magical moments of clarity.

There are things I would like to know. I internalize just about everything, I’ve been doing it my entire life. Those things that I keep away from everyone often make me wonder what my loved ones keep to themselves. What worries do they obsess over? Are there things that have happened to them that they’ve locked away in a deep dark corner of their minds? More frightening is the desire to know how they perceive me as well as those around us.

Perception is another tricky thing. The knowledge we have of ourselves comes from a place of confusion. We think about our looks in terms of what we find attractive in others, constantly comparing ourselves to others because it’s all we have. If we think one thing is beautiful and another ugly of course we strive to make ourselves more like the thing we call beautiful?

I read some where long ago that if we ever met a copy of ourselves on the street we wouldn’t be able to recognize our copy as a copy. It would just look like another person because the only time we see ourselves is through a mirror or in photos, so it skews our perception.

Feeling a little scatterbrained right now, but I promise it kind of comes full circle. It all goes back to me wishing I lived in a book. Where everyone’s thoughts and perceptions of myself were there for me to plainly see. I love the fantasy of being able to literally read someone else’s thoughts, now of course the characters in these books can’t do that themselves…so maybe what I’d really like is for my life to be in a manuscript, ongoing and ever changing.

Then again I would end up spending more time staring at the blank pages waiting for something to happen than actually living my life to ensure there was something to write about.

Maybe all of this just boils down to me constantly wondering if everyone else lies as much as I do about their lives. And all the other questions…Am I the only one in the world keeping my pain hidden? Would anyone really miss me if I was gone? Am I the only one insecure just about every moment of my damn life? Am I the only one who wonders if I’m making a giant mistake? Does anyone else worry about such idiotic things?

Do you?

Until tomorrow, stay wonderfully wild!

Chels

 

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