“Single conversations with another often entitle us to a glimpse, or more, to the concealed narratives of one’s life. There is a special quality in speaking to another individually that stands out from all other types of conversations – it pulls us along a path less travelled, where we find it more comfortable to speak about the intimate details of our lives without the usual accompanying baggage of conflicting emotions and self-consciousness.
Nestled within us are myriad subplots and storylines that we often do not share with others. Sometimes, these personal stories come into conflict with our public personae, or they could reflect weaknesses that we prefer to keep under wraps. That is why these stories often reside along the path of greatest resistance in common dialogues, I guess.
But human nature is capricious. There are moments where we feel more vulnerable, or moments where we are more inclined to open up. These are the unpredictable times when two persons find their relationship transformed in a fundamental and entirely unexpected way to become something more, something deeper.
In that case, it might be true that the greatest relationships are formed not because of similarities, but in spite of them; and that circumstances are sometimes a greater determinant than commonalities.”
It makes me wonder about the things that have changed and it compels me to question if the values that remain are the same. It reminds me of the reason why I started blogging in the first place: more than anything, it is to create an evergrowing tapestry of thoughts that I can look back at in years to come and learn more about who I was then and how I have since grown as I unstitch antiquated moments in recollection.
This post, in particular, resonated because I remember how I used to invest so much time and effort into reaching out to friends and getting to know them better. It was part of my personal philosophy, then, that every individual houses many variegated rooms that conceal a part of their identity. Some of these rooms are deliberately designed to be ostentatious as they portray to the world our primary, adopted persona; others have locks placed on them as they are meant to protect our vulnerabilities and secrets. And there are even some rooms, rare as they are, which we may not know exist within us.
I’m not sure how much of this personal philosophy still remains. Time and events have revealed that not every ‘house’ that lies on the same street as ours presently would always remain proximate – some of them appear close by chance and circumstance, while others relocate themselves for personal design and are just as quick to move away once all benefit has expired. Few and far between are the ones that will always be around the vicinity – the familiar ones you can always rely on for comfort and strength on fair-weathered days.
Are the stories I have yet to share the same ones?