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You from the Outside...Looking In

Is there anyone in the world who really knows you, like you know you…?

Graphic "Hacker" by Salvatore Vuono FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Graphic "Hacker" by Salvatore Vuono FreeDigitalPhotos.net


If you’re a lot like me…well, then I feel bad for you.

And stop being so annoying!

No…that’s not what I meant…but really…STOP!!!

Sorry…

What I meant to say was, if you’re a lot like me….

Okay…I’ve got this, now….

If you’re a lot like me, then you pretty much think absolutely no one in the world really knows you like you know you….

How could they? 

How could they know you secretly enjoy watching and collecting Britney Spears music videos from the late 90’s. 

Or that you still keep an 8 track tape player hidden in your glove compartment, just so you can listen to all your old ABBA tapes from the 70’s.

All defining characteristics as to who I…I mean you…really are.

Well, that and the public records that had, until recently, been sealed.

I mean who knew it was illegal to drink a Budweiser in Boston?

Seriously…who?

But secret choices of music or beer isn’t really what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about the difference in how we see ourselves compared to the way in which the rest of the world sees us…even our closest and most enduring friends…including the 3,600 friends you have on Facebook.

Many of us walk around every day with a constant narration running through our brains.

I don’t mean like secrets messages from your hamster telling you that you need to straighten out androgynous Pat who constantly helps him or herself to the diet coke you stash in the back of the break room fridge, every day.

I mean more benign things, like:

 I have to polish these shoes sometime before the next decade.

Or, I really like how I look in red, but do people think I’m just showing off? 

I think that new girl in accounting really likes me…but maybe she’s just staring at my mole.

The neighbors must think I’m odd because I like to sit in the attic and stare out the window all day on Saturday and Sundays. 

Hey, it’s the weekend…what else am I… I mean are you…supposed to do?

We only see ourselves from the inside looking out, with our friend, the narrator, constantly keeping tabs.

Constantly telling us how the rest of the world, on the outside looking in, sees us.

Or so we think…or more accurate, so the narrator thinks.

And how many times has the narrator held us back from things we really want to do in our lives?

I can’t audition for Dancing with the Stars…not after the incident at the Kirby’s wedding….

My rendition of “Oklahoma” is flawless but there’s no way I’m getting up at Karaoke night... not until they get rid of that Sushi Chef who looks at me funny. 

I should really submit my proposal to incorporate personal robots into the traffic department, but maybe not until the boss stops thinking I’m the UPS guy.

True or not true…I don’t know?  But that’s the kind of thing we tell ourselves, every time we want to take a chance with something.

Even worse, it very often the kind of things the narrator tell us to think twice about, even when we’re really not taking a chance at all.

Little things like…..

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Aidan April 05, 2014 at 08:05 AM
And the point?

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