Our Lives is one big Reality Show, but Who’s Adjusting the Lenses?

Just a quick heads up: The title is completely misleading and I’m not sure I even talk about reality shows in here.

Continue.

Blog’s theme for this week: Write about something opposite to what you usually write about. Challenge yourself. Think outside the box and bring about a piece. Or better yet, forget that there was a box in the first place, and write about that.

I don’t know how to write something that is opposite to what I usually am. Why? Because I don’t know what I usually am, and I don’t know how everybody else thinks they do.

I believe in masks and filters. I believe that none of us is really who we are when we are in public. Note being, public is a loose term that can range from society to only one other human being sitting next to you.

My mother used to always say that to know a person you must travel somewhere with them, or experience an accident along their side.

To know people you have to see them when they’ve run out of time to wear their masks, or keep up their pretense of whoever they “are”.

But even that is not enough in my opinion. One cannot truly ever know another, because good luck to us in truly knowing ourselves, better yet another human being.

I think that’s why believers believe in a God: A being so omniscient and omnipresent and all-knowing, that only HE can fully know us- and therefore judge us. We take comfort in that, because then we can project our own past and reality to those other less capable creatures- humans.

You can know nothing about my past except for what I choose to tell you. This version of my past will become your truth, which is completely different from the ‘actual truth’, because my story has crossed through your mind, and crawled through all the locks and the shades and the filters in there.

To be very honest, I have no idea where I’m going with this. It just hit me that truth is a relative term, and if I’m pragmatic enough, I shall dare to say that everything is a lie even when it’s not.

But because I’m not pragmatic enough, I’m sticking with my mom’s theory. So let’s pack our things and go to Morocco, because I’ve always wanted to go there. Like, really.

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