Are we not all to some extent unwillingly made invisible? We fear discovery of our innermost secrets, but we still resent sometimes the failure of others to see them, who we “really” are. I dare people to understand me, and they fail. They don’t even hear the question. This is stupidity, but very human, as I see it. It is vanity, my craving to be understood and recognized. We all have this flaw, to some lesser or greater extent.
Life is work, love and death. Work is an extension of love, done properly. Love is building form in the world. Emotional love, the recognition we crave, is building individual selves. Abstract love is building a better, richer, more interesting world.
It is no tragedy to lack people who understand you: the tragedy is lacking the capacity to care about others, and to work to build them. That is useful love. The rest is vanity, and as much as we like to have our vanity stroked, it is an unessential element, like carbohydrates.
Yes, I’m tired and complaining in my very abstract, analytical way. That is part of who I am. I have failed, in a way, and am working on soothing my ego, and doing so publicly in the hope my scribblings may be useful to someone else.