(Mis)Interpretation

I abhor the fact that a certain action or statement may be interpreted (in this case, misinterpreted) in a truck load of ways. A smile is a movement of muscles in reaction to a positive stimuli. A glance is a hurried look at a subject. A touch is a physical contact. A late night out is a mere hang out with friends. Why brand these things with classic translations that are really out of character?

But I’m also personally guilty of this habit. I also distort the random events and little habits, and broadcast a skewed perspective of basic reality. Trust me, I’m not afraid of telling the truth, but I’m not always totally honest. Even then, what right do I have to ask for something I do not give? What have I done to deserve the facts when I withhold information?

I usually enjoy deconstructing the mentality of others. I’d bask at how I would step out of the crowd and label individuals appropriately with legit proof and proper citation, and even find more joy whenever I confirm my assumptions. But lately, it has been nothing but exhausting.

Even I do not know what I want. But if I stopped with the mind games, will you stop putting words in my mouth? I guess not.

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