Every person contains a whole world inside of them

It’s 11:49 on a Sunday night, and lately I’ve been trying to notice what I notice: the frown lines etched around mouth corners, the crooked postures, the subtle weight people carry with them. I notice their frustration, when they try to say something but no one is paying attention, the way their eyes enlarge just so when they talk about something close to their heart, their silent ‘please, please just sit here quietly with me for a moment.’

Right now I’m reading William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury, and it’s one of the most difficult books I’ve ever read. The first section is narrated completely in chaotic streams-of-consciousness by a narrator whose mental disability causes him to have a very distorted view of time. He often confuses the present with memories from the past, and they overlap each other, sometimes even mid-sentence. It’s emotionally exhausting.

We strive for order to make sense of this life, to try to seize an ounce of control in a world that never slows down.

So often I feel a little out of sync with the pace of others around me, like we are all just moving a little too fast, skimming over the surface of life, of each other. We become so engrossed in the satisfaction of accomplishing tasks that we forget to just be people.

Every person contains a whole world inside of them, flooded with memories and opinions and favorites and least favorites and ideas they haven’t quite sorted out yet.

We have so so much to learn from each other. Friends, let’s really look at each other and listen.


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