It’s sometimes horrifying to me to reflect on how my own thoughts and feelings can be almost completely concealed behind that opaque window, my face.
I could be sitting with a friend, smiling and listening, responding with polite interest, and yet my inner thoughts might terrify that person, if only they could see them. If my mind was an open book, it would at times outrage, humiliate, crush and confuse. The barrier between us is frighteningly thin, but impermeable: you can only guess.
And yet, people do guess. Sometimes I’ve thought I was doing a great job of keeping my feelings under wraps only to have someone say, you hate me right now, don’t you. Or, you’re angry. I’d like to think that any outward expressions were under my control but they’re not. You can tell.
Up to a point. Suppose I was picturing how much better you would look in several pieces, or under the wheels of a large truck…or in my home made dungeon? Would you know it?
I don’t think you would.