Who, really? And who cares? People play games, or pretend to be so very absolutely transparent… As if. We all have our secret garden. More or less. We lay out what we choose to, giving our memories, our pain, our fantasies, our dreams. We share, we take from others, get inspired, envious, frustrated. We fall in love with mirages. We coo in the arms of strangers who don’t give a damn. We crave crumbs of attention, morsels of admiration, a sparkle in eyes we’ll never see the color of…
Often, I wonder. Why?
Everyday, my fingers ache to carve my thoughts in the stone of time. Hoping to leave a mark, but merely tagging walls with spray paint… Clumsy fantasy graffitis bearing the colors of my past. No matter how much I let out, no one will ever know me. I am an intricate puzzle. I give you a piece. But I keep the box for myself. You’ll never see the whole picture. Only I am allowed to judge the highlights aswell as the shadows.
I am complex, paradoxal, complicated. I’m me, for better and for worse.
But you don’t have to worry, you’ll never know me…
.
Not what I expected.
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What did you expect?
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One of an endless stream of stories about people trying to “find themselves”.
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We, your devoted readers, will probably never know _all_ of you, but we may know you better than you think. I think as writers we often reveal more of ourselves than we think we do. We can’t help it. We can’t pour out our hearts into our writing without letting our readers know the essence of what is in our heart, even if they don’t know the details. For instance, I know you are an awesome person with a very expansive, expressive heart, and I am honored to know you, even if it is just through our writing.
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Makes total sense. No one ever reveals their true self.
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It makes me sad to think I don’t know you… or that no one knows you. I’d like to know the real you. But I admit to thinking similar thoughts. I’m not sure if anyone really knows me either. Sometimes, I’m not even sure I know myself… and what I know, I don’t like. But I try to show others what I hope they will like… what I hope will make them like me. It’s really sort of pathetic and desperate. But I fail at that anyway. Pieces of me that should remain hidden escape and the whole image is ruined anyway.
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Yes people will never know us. But I wonder if we ever truly get to know ourselves
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You raise a profound question, which I was going to ask. You are right that people don’t often know themselves or, to put it another way they choose not to truly comprehend themselves. Many individuals don’t like to admit that they are fallen human beings.
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Those who try to comprehend themselves, do they get to know who they are? What do you think?
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Perhaps a few do. People do, however possess a great capacity for lieing to themselves and many are not even aware that they are doing so.
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I second that. People lie to themselves unconsciously and believe it to be true.
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Buddy, you sound a bit less than your usual cheerful self. I don’t know whether you have noticed, but last time I checked, you seemed to have about three million followers who, if they did not actually know you, certainly seemed to want to.
There’s nothing wrong, of course, with keeping a little of yourself to yourself.
I find it amusing to observe the fact that whilst others might find the stuff they know about me to be dull and boring, and even a bit depressing, they still imagine the stuff that they don’t know about me to be otherwise.
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Grrr… having problems with my replies, today, for some reason… I’ve answered your comment twice already, and my comments have vanished in the Bloggosphere….
My bubbliness has, indeed taken a blow this weekend… But it is nothing serious. Just exhaustion.
I’ll get back to you a little later… I’m pretty sure I can get my message through when I’ll be home. 3rd time’s a charm they say…. And if WordPress erases my reply once more, I’ll write you by email… hehe.
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deep and dark, I don’t need to know you to love you 🙂
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Wisely said, Kate! I was about to add that it was easier to love me, if one didn’t know me… But that would be uselessly dramatic. *hugs*
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we can know you and love you, you have a good heart and that is all that matters, ‘hugs’ right back!
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One time, a long time ago, I was with my now ex wife at an outdoor coffee cafe. SOme friends of mine sat at the next table. I found it impossible to simultaneously be the person my ex wife thought I was and be the person my friends thought I was.
THis was an eye opening experience that prompted me to make changes in my life. Now I think everyone I know knows me, WYSIWYG.
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True but a shame 😊🐝
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Nicely done and written, Cyranny. This brings to mind Rilke’s notions about each of us being a singularity and how difficult it is for anyone to really know anyone else, though we try.
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It’s difficult to ever truly know another person.
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