Although I was never fond of my philosophy classes in high school, my teacher used to try his best to make them quite interesting by often using the board in order to illustrate the most interesting anecdotes of each philosopher we were studying at the time. I recall him never asking any of us students to go up to the board to test our attention rather than our knowledge - something I really appreciated back then as I was an introvert teenager with all the insecurities that came with the package.
We started off with ancient philosophy (Socrates, Aristotle, Plato) followed by the so-called modern philosophy, as we went deeper into Hume and Kant's different thinking; we later moved on to the 19th- century philosophy (Schopenhauer, Marx and Nietzsche) yet for some reason we could not make it to the contemporary period. We had to read a book for each philosopher, although we never read them from top to bottom because I don't think we had the time nor the patience to do so. Back then most of us had a carefree existence, which was far from being close to the school reality and even though we had future expectations related to studies (at least I did), we seemed to have temporarily dragged them away from our school life. Most of us classmates use to hang out around our small, little town and have some cheap wine in order to show off our flirting skills and maybe make out with the classmate we had two rows behind us if we were lucky enough. I was never particularly interested in knowing who had cheated on the last Latin exam, or which soccer team had won the last game, or even who was the first one in losing their virginity within our group. In a small town like mine it was either going with the flow or shutting yourself off from everyone your age from your class. It was almost impossible growing apart from those whom I considered to be my friends. At some point it felt as if I had as well been abducted from my own reality.
But that's water under the bridge now. Almost a decade after, I find myself sitting on a red velvet couch, now alone, staring at the empty walls, thinking about Hume and Schopenhauer as I wonder how to figure out someone else's mind when it took me so long to figure mine out. When it is all about yourself, you can always make excuses to cover up your fears and insecurities. Earlier in time I use to pretend that I understood someone so they would not think I didn't care for them. But deep down inside I knew I was not being fair by hiding the bitter truth: I was clueless about their feelings. Throughout time, I have managed to somehow acknowledge other people's realities other than my own, which has enabled me to understand their lives slightly better and stay true to myself and consequently to them as well. I wonder what Hume has to say about this. If he would say anything, at all.
The feeling of isolation begins to take over this living-room as I begin to anxiously wander in circles and repeatedly bite my fingernails as I think about the Great Ones and their perspective of life. We are close enough (perhaps the closest I'll ever be to someone) that we will share what goes through our minds once in a while. Claiming that I understand other people's feelings would be amazing if it weren't for the fact that I am at a stage of denial when it comes to those thoughts that happen to be "out of the box" or do not affect me positively. The kind of secret, thought, or feeling that bothers me as I am (unfortunately for the most part) one more soul of the mainstream society. Some of these thoughts are not only not okay but they are also constantly discouraged: You need to dress a certain way, eat certain things, behave and interact a certain way. Why can't I simply be okay with a feeling that is not even my own struggle; a feeling that is merely shared because the other person happens to trust me. Why can't I swallow my pride and move forward when someone shares a painful or disturbing experience. It would definitely ease the other person's pain if I were honest; rather than burying my head in the sand and ignoring someone else's reality when I just got to accept my own. Now I know I should have listened more often to Schopenhauer: "Effortless mastery comes when you simply follow what your brain wants to do". But it's never too late, I guess.
