We strive so hard to create an illusion of self. An identity that we create, much like paper mache, out of glue and paper remnants. We are a refuse pile of forgotten philosophy, forced parental ideology, societal pressure, self loathing, love, hate.
We smile when we are sad and lonely, we don't speak up when we need someone to talk to. We wear our masks of disillusionment and change them often. We force laughter and become numb to reality. And yet, even with all that, when you ask someone else how they perceive you, 99% of the time, we don't perceive the sad and lonely as such. We outsiders cannot penetrate those masks of illusion. We see what we want to see. We see what we care to see. Sometimes, we are completely blind and other times we observers are the only ones to see the truth of the individual we are looking at with such authentic clarity we are blinded by their radiance.
We try to look inward and our gazes are stifled by our own self loathing. Our own detachment. Our own attachment. Our own false gods. It is in our solidarity with all things, that we can find relief.
I think the answer lies await in hope, love...compassion. If we immerse ourselves in this things and in each other, we can catch glimpses of ourselves in the beauty of others.