Participation vs Observation

For the most part, I would describe myself as an observer. I like to watch people interact with each other. I’m usually asking myself "What is going on in that person’s head, what makes them tick? Why do they do the things that they do? Why do they react the way they do in response to things that other people do?"

Maybe this fascination with finding out all about how people work, is primarily based on my need to understand my own behaviour. The only trouble is, no matter how much I learn about other people, I still don’t understand myself a lot of the time.

I suppose the inclination to observe from the sidelines rather than actively participate in the majority of instances has got a lot to do with trust. It would appear that I have trust issues, and a lot of them.

The worst feeling that I know is one of disillusionment. It often follows soon after I decide to throw my lot in with someone else’s, and actively choose to be a part of their world and let them be a part of mine. It’s all great - for a while. And then they do something that shows that at the end of it all, they will always be looking out for number one. Fun is fun, and that’s all great, but come the crunch, and it’s every man for himself.

Which leaves me reverting to type, and saying to myself "See, I told you they couldn’t be trusted with anything deeply personal. I told you it was dumb to let your guard down around that person. I knew it would come to this. And you’re pathetic for being hurt about it, because you knew it would happen. Get over yourself already. They’re not losing any sleep over the situation, why should you?"

And worst of all, even though I’m not happy about the invisible wall that we’ve got between us because we don’t trust each other, I know I’m just like that person. I know I’m looking out for my own best interests just as much as they’re looking out for theirs. And I know that I have no real interest in breaking that wall down for good.

In fact, come to think of it, I’d really rather not be without my trusty wall for protection against the invading barbarians. In the event of an attack, I’d much rather be standing on the ramparts of my inpenetrable fortress laughing down at the plebs below, than be doing hand-to-hand combat with them. Maybe they don’t like me much, but I’d rather not have to kill them to maintain my right to be me.

So what came first, the chicken or the egg? My side of the wall, or theirs?