Observing the Observer.

I find that the older I get, the more surprised I am when somebody takes an interest in me. I sometimes wonder why that should be, and the most immediate conclusion is that it’s simply a matter of low self-esteem. I’m a nobody and not fit to be noticed, so why does this person notice me? What’s going wrong here?

Thinking on, I doubt that’s right. My self-esteem moves as my moods do, and yet I’m always surprised when somebody takes an interest in me. I think it has more to do with the increasing self-perception that my role in life is to stand apart and observe.  I watch people and I watch their society and I try to work out what’s going on.

And so life for me is a bit like watching a cinema screen on which the world and its people are playing out the drama of life while I stand remote from it all. And when one of the images on the screen turns to face the camera and says: ‘Hey, you. Third seat in from the right on the seventh row. Yes, you…’ it’s a bit freaky.

And of course, it isn’t that simple because nothing ever is.

Meanwhile, the leaden skies and the cold and the unremitting wetness of everything are sucking the life out of me.