Knowing.

How well do we really know the friends we make in adulthood? And in the age of lies, what can be made of the person who tells untruths so small they serve no obvious purpose?

I hope you know me. I think you do, I believe I have laid bare all my sides. I have shown you, my friends, both strength and weakness, so that you may know me for who I am. I think I know you too. I believe I can tell, from the sound of your voice or the look on your face, how your day has been, how you are feeling and if you need help or not. We have shared things with each other that no one else will ever know. Moments, thoughts and self-realizations so strong, dangerous even, that we have had together and which makes us tied together.

Sometimes though, I wonder. Perhaps it is only possible to know one person to a certain extent. Perhas some parts of brain and heart is locked, no matter how close we get. It is so easy, in our age of digital life, online anonymity and short conversations with people we hardly know, to create something that isn’t true. I don’t think I do. But sometimes I feel like there is a forbidden place inside me, where thoughts that should never exist come and go. Thoughts that would perhaps even you change your mind. And I don’t know where it comes from. Or if it matters. Perhaps we are all like this? Do we all have a secret, dark part of our mind, where things are best left alone?

I don’t know. I hope you know me. I do my best to understand and to be understood. But to understand, to truly comprehend the complexity of another human being, one must first know all there is to know about it. Both body and mind. And I am not sure if that is possible. Some things are best left alone. Some thoughts are perhaps best left untouched. Locked away. Where no one will ever know they existed.

I hope you know me. But sometimes, I am not sure.

random thoughts of Human Perplection

One thought on “Knowing.

  1. The Human being is a clamjamfry of everything and everyone we have experienced in our lives, the girl I met on the train this morning and Karl Marks’ biography that I read when I was 15. What makes us, us is the equilibrium of all of those different thoughts and emotions, a million suggestions a minute that we organise into a decision about what to eat on toast. I know you, and accept that in knowing there is more to you than I can ever fully comprehend. I don’t need to know the thoughts one discards to trust them or know them any better, because I know you overall. The deep recesses of our minds are for us to hide the things we don’t show the rest of the world. The people we are is defined by the things we decide to show, rather than the things we are able to show.

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