It scares me sometimes to think about other people’s lives. The fact that they can think in a completely different way, see different things, have different opinions. Of course, it all sounds incredibly self-centred and self-absorbed, but if I were to be honest, the thing I find the most weird is that about 99.99999% of the population have no idea who I am or that I exist. In the same way I have no idea that they exist. They are only a number or a stereotype formed in my mind, living on a different world to me with a different “I”, “Me” and “Mine”. Their world revolves around them. Your world revolves around you. My world revolves around me.
I know, I know, some people would argue that charity workers or doctors or nurses or whatever live to help others. But why? So that they can get a kick out of it? So that they can feel like a good person? So that they can know they‘ve done something worthwhile or interesting? Nobody ever truly lives (or dies) for someone else.
And I guess that’s not a bad thing. It’s natural and rational and it’s never going to change. It’s just life.