You don't know me

While hanging around the kitchen, my friend N and I shoot the shit about the latest adventures in our ever-interesting lives. We exchange a few horror stories, and when I tell her about a recent exploit, it elicits a quick reaction.

“You always surprise me,” N says, taken aback.

“Why would you say that?” I casually ask.

“Well, when I think I know you, you say or do something that doesn’t sound anything like you.”

“Hmmm…” I raise an eyebrow, turn around and attend to the food on the stove.

Truth be known, no one ever knows anyone else. You never can.

How is this possible? Two reasons: you only divulge what you want, if you want divulge anything about yourself, and; you never really know yourself, since life is an ongoing journey of personal growth, which correlates with self-discovery.

I continually ask questions that make me think. With questions, comes thought, and with thought comes answers. They may never be the smartest of questions or the most brilliant of answers, but at least I'm making an effort to churn the wheels inside my head.

You don’t know me and you never will.

Fuck, I don’t even know myself. I will never know myself, and I abhor people who claim to know me. Even though I write about what goes on in my life, it's difficult to know what goes on inside my head.

And, if you think you know me better than I know myself, than please tell me ‘cause there are a few questions I'd like answered.