The Object Of My Affection

It is as though I am living in the eyes of other people, with their opinions, perceptions and judgements about me, my food and oxygen. “Maybe we’re cut from the same cloth, only you’re a little stern” and “We could be great friends if you were a reader”. I don’t see the point. I’ve always said that the opinions of people about us are important for this and that reason but that doesn’t change the fact that it still hurts. I am not a person anymore, my character is what people have assumed and supposed me to be, their thoughts and beliefs of me. It is what they think I should do when I am not doing something important. It is the work they think is beneficial for me. It is the food they consider healthy. And how I should not be asking for someone’s favourite songs just because I should’ve been doing something better according to them. 

Should there be a time, occasion and a setting to ask something and celebrate the precisely exact dates as some sort of a festival so that people can just be allowed to know each other without being entreated to mind their own businesses all the same?

To me, it seems like I have long lost my personality and my character and what remains is the object of someone’s judgements and which is seeking their attention even if I don't choose to. And it has all been terribly redundant. The horrid long outlandish opinions keep coming back like the fruits of the deep-rooted ancient forgotten deeds that I did. I don’t even recall how I identified myself before. 

In the process of understanding people’s point of views, and coherently adapting myself to ‘fit better’ in their surroundings, I have lost my own views. And with them pretending to know everything under the sun about almost everything under the sun and becoming lord Buddha in their minds, I doubt myself and maybe if I dig deep enough I would eventually find out my mistake. And the world is weighing me up in machines to know my worth and then feeling terrible for me, for being the little insignificant beloved person and person.

And all I can think of standing in the first shower of the mid-September afternoon is that we’re all in the budding stages of our lives when we thought that rainbow consists of seven colours and we were ignorant of the fact that a million shades of colours are breathing inside the seven shiny cotton comforters of the primal shades of art, but our eyes get snapped open when the truth comes back flashing before our eyes. Maybe we’re all ignorant and keep doing what is expected of us. 

A soft breeze of cool air strikes at my face and currents of deep sensation are sent through me. Meanwhile, all the people keep weighing hearts and minds and the sapien souls keep thriving in the eyes of their counterparts. I wonder how many people are thriving in my eyes. I think I am going to let them come out and breathe the fresh air that’s flowing right now. 

Perhaps they realise what they’ve been doing all these years, shutting themselves off slowly, hour by hour, minute by minute, and basing their ideas of themselves by being biased to their objectified images drawn completely unknowingly by other humans which is congesting and suffocating for their souls. 

And perchance other people will open their gateways too. And see the person as a person and not an object to be paraphrased and understood. I think that understanding ourselves is more important without any prejudices to other peoples’ ideas of us and without being narcissistic at the same time. And even though what people think about us matters, but it only matters to the extent that you consider it and give it a thought, and not unknowingly wreak your brains over it and modify yourself to ‘fit in’ in their idea of you.

 I hope people feel this cool breeze of realisation too.