At work today, it was really quiet. Really really quiet. And when it gets quiet at work I get to thinking. Mostly I think about half-naked ladies in fancy pants or something but today I thought I’d think of something…more.
And I’m not talking about bras, either.
It struck me, in the way that these things often do, how little people know about other people. Oh, sure, different facets of yourself get shown to people on a regular basis, but I reckon that it’s really rare for just one person to know everything about you. Not, you understand, the trivial things like how many spoonfuls of sugar you like in your coffee, that’s just *facts*, but the things that make you…you.
Take me, as an example. I’ve generally been one who likes my own company. Okay, I go out occasionally, and I like to make crap jokes when other people are there, but a lot of the times when I’m happiest happen when I’m on my own. No pressures or expectations, just me. Yes, people do know me quite well, my sister, (obviously) and my mother, and a few other people who I’ve let into my life, but there are still things that I keep from people. It’s not even as if I do it deliberately. It’s possibly a bit like I’m a big cake, and various people can have a piece of the cake, but nobody ever has all of the cake (maybe because that’d make them sick, although that’s probably pushing a metaphor too far.) I actually quite like it that way.
This isn’t, in reality, intended to be a depressing post, but having just read that, it’s starting to look that way. The truth is that it rather pisses me off when people say “Oh, I know you so well” or things of that description because it almost suggests that I’m easy to read or understand, and, dammit, I want to have a bit of mystique left. I always thought that eventually I’d find somebody with whom I would feel comfortable enough to let in to my head to the extent that they *could* learn everything (and not my family, cos they really wouldn’t want to go in there…) but as I get older, it’s not happened yet, and in my more morose moments I start to worry that it might never happen. But, you see, for me that’s the most exciting thing about meeting somebody new, you get the chance to find out more about them.
Sort of run out of steam in this now. Anyway, the moral of the story is….you don’t know nobody