The bad thing about strangers is that they don’t know you. With them, you can’t be anyone you want. They will mix, match and throw on the wrong personality, see how it works for them. Go get judged by a stranger.
There’s a time when they slap on a layer of disconnect and discontent to settle between them and you. Try as you might, you can’t get through, can’t convey what you mean. The sea of strangers feel like they know each others stories. They don’t know them and never will.
We spend hours mulling over some person’s character, avoiding reading between the lines. We spend an entire lifetime judging, not knowing what we seek, not understanding, not recognizing who they really are. We’re all lost within the eternal quest for others to know us for us, lost in the search for acceptance and understanding. We don’t know exactly who they are and there’s always a part of them that remains unknown, unexplored.
We’re scared to be judged by strangers when reality is that we’re strangers who judge others ourselves.
my version of miss moody’s “strangers”