An imagined existence.

Dear Readers,

I’ve been deep in thought for the last few weeks about the meaning of human existence. It’s not normally the kind of thing someone my age is expected to think about, right? Of course not. Society tells me I’m supposed to think about artificial things- I’d list off examples, but I’ll be honest, I can’t think of the things I’m supposed to think about because I don’t care.

I feel like I’ve been here before. I feel like I kind of experience things a little differently from other people. I know that it’s probably because my individual perception will be unique from anyone elses, but from experience and the way I tackle things, I feel like I handle it differently. Naturally, it gets me thinking about a lot of different things. That’s something I do a lot, over think things. A lot of people tell me I shouldn’t because asking questions ‘makes things complicated’ but hell, I like making things complicated, but most importantly I like knowing things, so when I can’t get a solid answer and don’t know what something means, I get frustrated. Like I should actively go out of my way to find it out- if only it were that easy, right?

One thing I know for sure? That the only thing I have control over is my breathing. And that’s something I’m alright with. I used to be obsessed with the idea of having control over every little aspect of my life, I’m not sure where that came from to be honest, but I lost interest in that when I started really appreciating the random things that were happening to me. Crossing paths with people I almost didn’t meet, or meeting people I really shouldn’t have met. Or even choosing the wrong thing to do. Those were decisions I made on my own accord, whether or not I liked it, and I lived the consequences of those decisions and I learned from them. And I started appreciating them because I didn’t regret them. Why should I? Only regret the things you chose not to do, that’s what I like to live by. But anyway, back to the breathing. Breathing is my (your) anchor. It’s my base. The thing I can refer back to when I don’t know how to handle or label the things happening around me- the one thing I know I can do is control my breathing. And upon further thought, it’s probably the only real justification of my existence.

I have never seen my own face apart from reflections or in pictures. But I can’t really be sure it’s my face. Just like…I’ll look at someone in the street and never see them the same way you do. Or the way anyone else would. You see these people based on your own experiences and interpretations of what you wish people to look like in your eyes. Isn’t that funny? I guess it makes sense in the way where you sometimes don’t understand why people are attracted to certain people- they just see them differently from you do. I don’t know about you, but I love that about people. I love that one person can essentially be multiple different versions of themselves in the eyes of another human being. But on the same hand, we also only chose to see what we want to see in another person- which is almost like trickery, but brings me to another question of whether or not we really ever know a person and whether or not they ever really know themselves? If we’re too busy gaining information on ourselves based on the way people perceive us, are we essentially just bypassing who we really are as people in order to be a subjective interpretation of another person? They say if you met yourself in real life, you wouldn’t really recognise yourself, or in some cases, you wouldn’t necessarily like yourself, and maybe that’s because it isn’t for you to make up your mind about who you are, maybe you need the guidance of other people.

I guess what I mean is I can’t really be sure who I really am when there are so many different versions of me through the eyes of other people. I can partake in the “painting a picture” segment of getting to know me, but I can never really control how I’m viewed. It took me a while to make peace with the idea that I can’t please everyone. And it wasn’t through fault or a flaw in my own character (or anyone for that matter) and it wasn’t really much to do with a fault or flaw in the people viewing you, but there experiences just don’t match yours. Maybe they clash or maybe they differ entirely which makes the entire concept of you harder for other people to grasp. But maybe I’ll never find out what I want to find out and I’ll keep searching for reasons I really shouldn’t be searching for. But the idea of being multiple dimensions of one person both baffles and amazes me, and in the mean time I’ll carry on thinking that human beings and everyone I meet (myself included) are mere figments of our imagination.