Mind games

There is both sadness and comfort over the fact that nobody could ever get inside our head. That our deepest thoughts, embarrassing or not, are safely hidden from the scrutiny and judgment of people. That all of what we say can be, if one wants to, filtered to just what we want others to hear. That we can only show what we want people to see. I guess, that’s the comfort part. But the sad part in it is how much we get upset and disappointed when people do not get us. When people couldn’t get to the core of our being, and it makes us sad because we somehow expect them to. We expect people to read us and know what to do when we want them to. I know it’s selfish but it’s just hard to give ourselves to others without completely knowing: What’s the closest that people can get inside of us? I can’t help but wonder.