I am the only one that matters. My life is the only pertinent thing that exists. Ever.

At least according to my own unconscious philosophy, the entirety of the universe revolves around me. In the day-to-day trenches of our existences, everything in my own immediate experience supports the highly irrational belief that I am the absolute center of the universe and the most important person in existence. Logically, I know that’s not true. I know that everyone has their own families, deadlines, finances and hobbies to worry about. I would be empty-headed to think otherwise. But for some reason, this unconscious notion still stands. How come we never talk about our inherent self-centeredness? Socially, we completely deny that we’re narcissists. It’s a repulsive idea. However, when the day is done, it all boils down to our mind thinking that any small discrepancy between what we want and what actually happens will pull apart the fabric of the universe. Not the universe. Our universe. We are wired to think that we are the only things that are relevant. What we experience is always right in front of us, on our computer screens or in the laugh of someone within earshot. We have all consoled a friend suffering through other emotions and pains, yet our own feelings and thoughts somehow reach a sense of urgency and realness—something that demands our immediate attention. Our thoughts hold more weight simply because they're our own.

We can stand shoulder to shoulder with someone yet somehow irrationally believe that people shut off when we aren’t directly interacting with them. We all entertain these ghastly delusions of complete singularity—that we are the only one who takes out the trash, who vacuums the floor, who gets ready three hours before a first date, that only we overthink casual and arbitrary social interactions. We love the idea that “we are the only one who ever does this thing."

All thoughts aside, rationally thinking, we know that these things are not true. Imagine that you’re cast as the starring role in a play. Your part is to be exhausted after a grueling eight-hour shift at your boring desk job. Today, your boss falsely scolded you for screwing up a project. Your coworker incessantly smacked his gum next to you. Finally, the day is over and you forget that you have to buy groceries. Quickly, you run to the supermarket to pick up a few things. You walk in. You say hello to an employee (an extra in the play) wearing a bright red apron. You continue to browse through the aisles, picking up broccoli, chicken and some pretentiously healthy bag of quinoa. You make your purchase and you leave. The play is over.

Next, imagine that you’re cast as the starring role in a play. Your part is to be an 20-year-old college student working at a supermarket to pay your way through your education. You arrive at work. You put on a bright red apron. You say hello to the exhausted looking person (an extra in the play) dressed in a suit and tie. You continue to check the aisles to see if they need restocking. You recite your greeting and goodbye to the businessman. You continue your shift. The play is over.

Usually, we only think about people in terms of how we personally relate to them. We only think about feelings, thoughts and emotions according to how we perceive them. We don’t take note of the people or faces in a crowd that we constantly pass by on the daily. We are so limited in our thinking and generally like to entertain the thought that our existence is greater than others.

I think this mental limitation is derived from a self-driven society and is perpetuated by the rhetoric that states: “Believe in yourself and all your dreams will come true.” “You just need self-confidence and you can turn things around.” “If you just try a little harder, the outcome will be favorable to you."

While these notions are positive and well-intentioned, perhaps they only continue the cycle of entertaining our inner Narcissus. Having self-confidence isn’t an atrocity, but we should continue to keep it in check. We are all still desperate to anesthetize our perceived loneliness or for someone to break into our single-starred universe. Perhaps if we proceed with the assumption that our own thinking is limited rather than other people’s thinking, we could deepen our relationships with those around us by listening to people rather than waiting for our turn to talk. Perhaps the real paradox is the idea that the only way to fix this problem is to start with ourselves. Perhaps the solution remains unclear. Maybe alleviation comes by having empathy rather than our staying cooped up in our own self. By opening up our minds to new universes rather than thinking, we are the sun.