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Before I run, I look into the distance to the finish line (which is five, six, seven or sometimes one kilometres away) and think, “That doesn’t look far at all. Pfft. I could sprint the darn thing.” This is always because distance in comparison to up-close size is distorted and it looks like I could get to the end of the run in about eight simple leaps.

 

Perception is a funny thing.

 

Perception of people is even funnier. If not more interesting and important than my excuses to not run.

 

Lately, I have been trying to configure an opinion on whether people fundamentally change or simply our perception of them does. The romantic part of me (yes, it is in there somewhere. Stuffed at the back of my brain with sympathy and organization) wants to believe that every person is capable of monumental change, unrestricted by their beliefs that they have held for the longest time. I couldn’t handle it if this was how I was essentially going to be for the rest of my life. If nothing else, I would be exhausted and possibly left with a large chiropractor bill.

 

The other part of me, possibly the realist portion of my brain, thinks that opinion is the only part that really changes and the beliefs of a person take longer to catch up and transition.

 

I have recently had a friend change his opinion of me. Which is fair enough. I am constantly amazed that people stick around for as long as they do, considering I don’t pay them and have a solid rule never to sleep with friends.

While I have accepted His decision to cut me out of his life, the thing that has stumped me is that I haven’t changed at all. Only his perception of me has.

 

As a person who doesn’t yet understand All of her own layers (and therefore can’t expect or accept that anyone else can), I am constantly confused as to what sides of Me I should show to other people. There are so many sides to me (read: everyone), that it is impossible (and confusing) to show them all at once. And so I pick and choose.

Hence why I firmly believe that I could talk to both the smartest and the dumbest person on earth and hold a decent conversation: What layer I tap into usually depends on what is necessary for survival (social and literal).

 

So when people are shocked to learn things about me, things that always existed during our relationship but were not brought to the foreground, I struggle to accept their damnation.

Do we have to tell everyone about ourselves?

Do we have to indulge information about our sex lives to friends and acquaintances?

Do we have to care if someone else has a problem with our own decisions and personalities?

 

My answer, I think, is no.

Firstly, while I have total confidence in the majority of decisions I make, I can’t fathom introducing myself by saying, “I really like reading political novels. And have a weakness for twenty-year-old boys with a quick recovery time.”

I of all people understand that this piece of information would make the sanest of humans run to the hills with their arms flailing. Social decency is important, if inconvenient.

 

One of the greatest struggles individuals have is becoming comfortable and confident within themselves. People will always oppose the things that we do, because of their own perceptions and moral codes, but I don’t think that it is necessary to change your own actions based on that. Change only if you are not getting happiness from your actions (Aside: For example, if I was actually sad about loosing said person from my life, I would have cause to reconsider my personal behaviour. But I don’t).

 

Everything we do has the motivation of personal fulfilment and happiness, something that no one needs to apologize for.

However, just like when you are about to run five (or one) kilometres, things can seem like a bigger deal than they actually are.

 

That is just perception.

 

 Post By Salium.