I knew it had made me laugh. Hysterically. And I knew it had something deeper, something really profound. I don't remember thinking about it very much, but it stuck with me.
The overarching theme of the novel is to "imagine people complexly," a saying so simple and small that it actually didn't hit me until much later how interesting a concept it is. I spend a lot of time thinking about other people, but a lot of that thinking comes down to, "how does everyone else handle everything so much better than I do?" and "how does everyone else have it all together?" and "why does no one else think the way I do, about the same things, why does no one else worry as much as I do?" Followed by me trying to remind myself that they do, and to imagine them complexly.
What a revolutionary concept, right? I'm serious. I can't count the number I've times I have been shocked to learn that someone felt something like I did, thought the same worrisome thoughts I thought, and so on. We're a part of a deluded society which cons us into believing that we are alone in how we feel, almost constantly. I see tons of girls walk past me on campus every day, and it's second-nature for me to look at them and think they know who they are, to assume they have some sort of direction in life, to assume they never get sad, or upset, or nervous.
That's completely silly, of course, because of course they do. Of course they get sad and lonely sometimes. And I spend so much time analyzing myself and, well, imagining myself complexly, that I forget that most people must not imagine me as being very real at all. That there, is so difficult to wrap my mind around, because I think if my emotions could appear beyond my skin, if everyone's emotions could do that, people would be very, very different. I can walk around in my picked-out outfit and makeup and schoolbag, and talk about how I finished my homework and how I'm not worried for the test and how my paper went well and no one knows anything. That's me, about as un-complex as I know how to be.
But when I see this on other people, when I feel vulnerable, I freeze. I panic because I can never be, could never be, will never be that put-together, that figured out.
But... I am? Outside I am just as put-together, just as self-assured, just as everything.
It struck me today, somewhere between wondering how everyone else handles everything perfectly and convincing myself to stop worrying about schoolwork, that, like my mom always says, I'm constantly comparing my insides to other peoples' outsides. And, her advice always leads me back to imagining people complexly.
So, I read Paper Towns when I was hunting for colleges. I finally found The College, I've been at The College for a month, and suddenly why I loved Paper Towns so much makes all the sense in the world to me. So much of my anxiety is fueled by my emotional stability compared to other peoples', and how strange that I've been programmed to think how I feel should be a thing of comparison. I feel the way I do. Other people feel that way too. Sometimes in different ways, and at different times, but we all convince ourselves we're the only ones.
That's moderately fucked up.
Go forth, imagine complexly. It's hard to do, trust me, I know. But try not to start thinking everyone else can and you can't. If there is one thing to take from this, no matter what the situation is, you're not the only one.
-Hannah
SONG OF THE WEEK: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWgmtmIiomI
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