drivel
I am not smart. I am not cleaver at all.but I think a lot.I think a
lot of people try to judge people on their intelligence, or lord their
own knowledge over people.but some times those people are the dumbest
people. Because they can only see themselves. Egocentric. They have no
empathy. Because they are smart and are told they are clever they see
their view is right. So they never think.
core is thinking. i think too much sometimes, but i think it has made me a better version of me.
i
used to get angry a lot, but now i just think about why things make me
mad. small things, like kids who ask to many questions in class, they
just make me mad because they are just wasting time. i can step back and
see why i react the way i do has made me a happier person. i can let
things go. i can make my self happy, i am happy hanging out with my dad
because he wants to know more about me and i want to know more about him
and we can talk and that is great.
i think this has made me more
sympathetic to people. i am more willing to listen to both sides of a
story, to form my opinion on, small things like arguments, or big
political things. i listen to both and find the answer that best aligns
with me, one or the other or maybe a mix of both.
it has also
made me kind of sad. i see things i do not agree with, and i cannot
understand how a person can think like that. and maybe it is just my
frame of reference, but if people thought more they would be kinder. but
not everyone wants to questions themselves, and that is ok.
not everything has a "bad guy" that is what separates life from fiction
even
though i love to draw and daydream, i think mostly in words, now i am
planing parses and letters./\ when people talk to me i can picture the
type scrolling like a stock clicker.
when i asked my grandmother
"how do you think" she said she never thought about it. something you
live with everyday, the voice and images in your head, never speaking
about themselves.
but there is so much more to thoughts than words
and pictures. that persons frame and pen are different than mine. even
if we seem the same we are so different.
even if we think in
pictures and words, people are so different, and no one will truly
understand where you think. i will never know how men think. narrower, i
will never know how grown white men think. smaller, my father thinks.
but i can try to know him, and learn why he reacts the way he does.
trying to understand people, to see where they come from is me.
a
form of solidarity. not sympathy. not pity. i cannot know how you feel,
but i try to see why you are the way you are. Thinking has made me a
better version of me.. i can step back and see why i react the way i do.
i am less angry, thinking than i was fighting with blind bias. i now
myself deeply, knowing how i am, i can make myself happy, but i also get
more frustrated, when i fall through my own cracks
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