Have you ever noticed the difference between people who share information about their lives and those who don’t?
The people who hand out stories about themselves to strangers, and the people who view their lives as a secret?
I think when people share such information, they’re hunting for love and appreciation of the uniqueness of their lives.
I always feel uncomfortable when people tell me things about their lives that have changed them, experiences from their past that were hardships or things that are special in their eyes.
I want to learn about people, but it I want it to be done with respect.
I think, subconsciously, I have the perception that people who share everything about themselves the second they meet a person are emotional whores.
Within friendship, I want us to discover things about each other gradually.
Relationships, in my opinion, are about the journey. Not the destination.
People misinterpret knowledge about someone as closeness.
I like to have a sense of mystery surrounding those I care about.
I want to constantly be learning about them.
I feel close to people when with each new shared experience.
Those moments where we grow to understand ourselves better, and share that self-developmental step with someone else.
I don’t want to be intertwined with them, to understand their every thought.
Connection is important, and I recognize that.
But where do we draw the line?
What kind of connection is best?
The kind where we are TOLD how to connect to someone, based on what they tell us about themselves?
Or the kind where we share experiences and see the other person in action?
To know me is NOT to love me.
To know me is to have me.
And, at that,
To have me as I want you to have me.
Regardless of your affection.
Then how do we love?
To know me is to have me,
But to love me,
You must believe in me.
And to believe in me?
I think that comes from something other than a story.