It’s okay to feel like your world is revolving around you sometimes because your world is all about you. Your experiences, your challenges, your love, your heartbreak, your failures, losses, gains, achievements and beliefs are all about you. You name it - anything you can think of - and so much more is all about you because you’re the only one living with yourself, inside yourself, by yourself.
Isn’t it bonkers that we as humans get wrapped up and intertwined with so many people from so many different walks of life and paths so different and foreign from our own? Isn’t it is even crazier to think some of those people you’re interacting with every day have stories they’ve never told anyone and never plan to?
The self is an incredible thing, and many people try to see it as such. And yet, more often than not, you see yourself in the mirror and think of all the things you could change, the things that you could be instead, or you imagine living the life of someone you wish you were…
Wake up. We all have fantasies, no big surprise there. You are you. And yeah, you may look in the mirror and see a mole on your back you don’t like, or cellulite on your legs that "Oh, if only you could get rid of, you would be so much better off than you are now."
Well here’s the scary truth: those things you see in that mirror aren’t true reflections of yourself, and I think that’s what scares people the most.
I think the entire concept that what you’re physically presenting doesn’t accurately display all that you have to offer is one of the most shit-your-pants terrifying thoughts you could have. Someone you think is attractive might pass you by and won’t give you the time of day because of the text they just received or because of the friend they saw right behind you, and never met your eyes.
Your beautiful, scarred, dark, curious eyes.
The life we lead is a series of events. It is a series of events that sometimes make sense, but most of the time leaves us circling the dark mysterious bane that is our existence.
I guess what I’m trying to put into words here is that I don’t have answers - neither does anyone, really - and that’s what I’m so furious and enthralled by.
The girl that gives you the snotty look or the boy that doesn’t give you the time of day has no idea what they’re missing. They have no idea what kind of life they would have if they would just LOOK at you. If you could just take a minute and show them your life and tell them your stories.
Wouldn’t it be such a life if we could, if we did? If we genuinely got back to caring and inspiring one another to do something extraordinary in whatever regards that individual deems their own extraordinary to be? Can you even fathom a world like that?
A world where people do not deprave others of their hopes or cast them away for their clothing or appearance. I mean truly, how shallow will we get? How incredibly facetious will we become before we have an epiphany and look at ourselves and realize the reflection in the mirror now shows a whole lot more than just physical imperfections.
Like I said, it’s frustrating. There aren’t answers. But if we get back to substance, amidst breaks from the ever-looming, ever-glowing third hand we carry around everywhere, wow.
Humor me. Imagine the possibility and imagine our potential. The light we could bring back to peoples’ lives, the true shine, not the iridescent glow that radiates from the object that intends to intoxicate us with materialism and insincerity.
