Beth. Mysterions. Scratches, beats, drum rolls.

It’s funny. Sometimes I read confessions on group hug and someone will be going on about how they have this problem, but they can’t tell anyone because no one would understand. Almost every time, no matter what it is, my first reaction is to roll my eyes and think to myself, “Trust me, you probably know someone who understands”.

And then I realize that this isn’t true, because it isn’t true for me. There are quite a few things that I feel like I can’t tell my friends. Not because I’d be afraid of losing them over it, but because none of them have had the same experiences as me, thus rendering unable to help.

John is usually the first person I’ll tell my problems to because I’m most comfortable with him. I’ve known him for more than half my life, and he’s as fallible as me. I also have a lot more shit on him than he does on me (how do I keep John loyal…blackmail, hah). But generally I don’t want to tell him about my problems because he doesn’t think like me at all.

Pat is the person I’d most want to tell things to, simply because he has too much good in his heart and knows me well enough that I couldn’t possibly say or do anything to make him angry. Yet he’s the last person I end up going to for help or advice, just because he’s so busy. Sometimes I’ll tell Aaron and Trolley, but I don’t linger on things too long for fear of boring them.

I mean, what’s the point of telling someone who doesn’t think the same way or hasn’t been in the same situation? It’s not like they don’t care, they just actually don’t understand, so what could they possibly do to help (aside from direct involvement if the option is there, but if the option is there it wouldn’t be a problem). Sometimes, the most that a friend can do is lend an ear.

Sometimes it’s enough. Otherwise, there’s this.

My own, personal group hug.

There’s a riddle that goes:

Two chimney sweepers are working in a chimney when one loses his footing and causes both to fall into the fireplace. One ends up with a black, sooty face, while the other is lucky and stays clean. Both look at each other in astonishment after the surprising fall. The one with the clean face goes to the bathroom to wash his face, while the other continues working with his darkened complexion. Logically explain the actions of the two sweepers.

The answer is simple. The one with the dirty face sees the one with the clean face, and assumes that his face is clean as well. The one with the clean face looks at the one with the dirty face, assumes the opposite, and washes up.

And even though I know the answer to the riddle, sometimes I forget that such confusion exists. For example, if I had a car, I’d be giving people rides to Tremblent. And since I’d be going there myself, I wouldn’t ask people for gas money. Other people, however, see the car ride as part of the cost of going there, and will plan on splitting the cost of gas when organizing the trip. Both ideals are fine, but I prefer to not ask people for money if I’m not going out of my way to do something.

And, being the ignorant idiot that I am, I will sometimes forget that others are not like me, that others assume that gas money will be split. Perhaps it can be said that I’m as much at fault as others who assume the opposite, but that doesn’t really matter to me. The best solution, in such cases, is that an understanding be reached when things are planned.

An example like this, which has been taken from personal experience, can be related so many other things in life. That just means that I need to work harder at being considerate of how others think.

Because some would rather be angry than understanding.

It’s so hard to witness someone being made fun of, simply because they’re misunderstood. I get flustered and bite my lip, because trying to defend them never does a thing. I also get either angry or sad, depending on whether or not I know the person who’s doing the mocking. In my experience, someone who’s so quick to come to a conclusion will refuse to see things another way. They have enough preconceived notions to keep themselves ignorant and secure.

Perhaps I’m like this because I can relate to what it’s like to be misunderstood. As an experiment in one of my English classes, I wrote an extremely graphic story about a necrophiliac doctor who ends up getting raped up the ass, and presented it. I wanted to show that the intentions of an artist are irrelevant if he or she is misunderstood, because others will continue to carelessly judge them. The more oddly my classmates stared at me while I was presenting, without trying to grasp what I was trying to do, the more I felt like my point was proved.

The thing is, someone is usually misunderstood because they don’t explain themselves well. A person can be extremely provocative, controversial, or complex, but as long as others see what they’re trying to get across then everything is fine. Of course, it’s much easier said than done, and someone is most often misunderstood because their ideas are harder to grasp. In addition to this, I find that the eccentricity related to a person with such ideas clouds their perceptions as to what they believe others are capable of comprehending.

Sometimes, I wish the world could see what I see.

I haven’t seen Pat in more than two months. We’re trying to schedule something for March, and by that time it’ll be an entire quarter year since we’ve hung out. I’ve come a long way since I last saw him, in terms of mindset, and he’s probably the only one who totally understands how gravely important that is to me. It’s too bad that my other close friends don’t completely understand me, although it’s no fault of their own and I don’t hold it against them.

It takes pain to understand pain, and Pat is the one who’s had the most similar experiences. If there was one person in this world who has me figured out, it’s him. It used to feel as though he would have to come to my level to talk to me, to understand what I was going through, to give me guidance and support.

Now it feels as if I’ve come to his level, and I understand his attitude, motivations, and worldview much better as a result of this. He admitted that he always wondered when I’d get there, and he’s curious if he’ll notice a change the next time he sees me.

I see all the influences that change me as adding more to my mind, another piece to the quilt.

Keeping every piece becomes as important as gaining more.

It’s difficult for me to imagine being done school, that I can start living as a free person. I’ve been in school for so long that I begin to expect another term in the near future. Yet I’m done (as long as I didn’t fail anything) and I have a great deal of options. But what would I really want to do with my life? A university diploma will only help me get a tiny part of what I want to achieve.

Odd that I live so day-to-day, yet have a few goals planned for decades in advance. Even if I haven’t achieved a single goal by the time I die, I’ll feel decently satisfied. I enjoy being able to appreciate everything I do each day. A great deal of thinking needs to be done before I keep going. And while the future seems uncertain, while the world seems to be turned upside down, I feel comforted.

It’s understanding and realization that bind my world together, that bring meaning to anything I do.