In some ways - maybe in a lot of important ways - I understand people very well. Well enough to do them serious damage, if I were that way inclined, which I'd like to say here and now that whatever happens in the upcoming months I am emphatically not. Not that I expect anything that might infer the contrary to happen, but...you can't be too careful, as I am frequently reminded these days.
Tangentially, I do have a tendency to think too well of the human race as a whole, as well as of individual bits of it. This means that when, say, I meet someone who is similar to me, and realise that they've got things I've got and they're doing awful things with them, it shakes me up a lot. Not that it happens often. But sometimes. And it frightens me.
But I was saying I don't understand people. Even the people who are that similar to me, I don't understand all the time. Something I'm kind of grateful for; I could know, if I looked hard enough, why they chose to do awful things with what they've got. But I don't look.
Which is another thing to feel guilty for, unless I make sure they're only doing those awful things to me. Which I often do.
But I was saying I don't understand people. I understand people better when I can look at them and even better when I can touch them, which is why (if you ever wondered) I often absently reach out to touch people when I'm talking to them. And why I'm not afraid to make direct eye contact with anyone, for that matter. It's them that should be afraid of making direct eye contact with me.
Where am I going with this? I guess where I'm going with this is that there are people I never want to have to second-guess, whom I have no choice but to second-guess for fear of unwittingly doing something that hurts them. They keep moving the goalposts, though, and I can't tell whether it's because they trust me not to do the things I know will hurt them, or because they've decided the things won't hurt them at all. Either way, they keep changing their minds.
Not for the first time, I wish I could selectively read people's thoughts.
But who knows? If I could, maybe I'd use that to do awful things. Although, you know, I wouldn't.
I just want to make that clear right now.
In other news, finished Neil Gaiman's American Gods (yes, well. Next?), attempted to start this month's Bibliogoth book and gave up in pain after three pages or so, and turned instead to Kushiel's Dart, which is, erm. Enjoyable, I'll say, and save any other adjectives for later.