Although a post is meant to be like having a discussion with you, there is no actual conversation. The entire process is a conversation with myself where I get to imagine we’re sitting in a room and I’m telling YOU my side of a conversation.
YOU look like my wife. My coworker. The woman who was in line ahead of me at the grocery story.
YOU are always very interested and engaged. You want to know more. What do I think? Why do I think that? More. More. More.
But what am I doing but actually having a conversation with myself? YOU are just a figment of my imagination. At least until my YOU become the real you and I’m not arrogant enough to assume that will actually happen.
What would Freud think of that?
For me, it’s something I’m still getting used to. It’s like writing a diary entry with the intent of leaving the diary open on a table at Starbucks and hoping it finds you.