Sometimes, when I’m convinced the world hates me, I realize it doesn’t. It doesn’t — on the whole — even know I exist. I’m not sure if that is comforting or the exact opposite, but it reminds me to not worry about what “they” think because they aren’t thinking about me. Whatever they ARE thinking about, I am very far from their main focus.
Except for Garry and our dogs. They think about me. Yay family!
We constantly worry about how we must appear in the minds of others. But the truth is that nobody cares about who we are, what we’re doing and how we’ve messed up.
We are at the center of the galaxy only in our own tortured minds.