Face To Face

For my 30th birthday last month, my mom put together a collage that now hangs on a wall in my bedroom.  It’s full of family pictures, with shots of me through the years sprinkled in here and there.

A huge part of who I am is reflected in the people who know and love me.  Some are gone, many remain, but all of them have affected how I see myself.

But something struck me tonight. 

Of everyone captured in these photographs, I’m the one I know the least.  Well, it’s beyond not knowing myself–I mean, everything I experience is filtered through me, through my being.  The oddness that I feel in trying to “know” me lies in the fact that I am the only person in the world whom I can’t encounter in the street.

There’s no me outside of me.

The only concrete way to describe this is to think about my answering machine at home.  If I call and leave a message for my mom, and then arrive home to play it before she returns, I find myself listening to my self.

And the closer I get to me, the further away I feel.

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Filed under Life, Philosophy

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