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Strangers
Strangers. When you imagine a stranger you think of a person wearing a black trench coat in a dark alley. That's not what I think of. I think of my family and friends. Those I'm closest to.
The more you learn about someone, the closer you feel to them. Yet you become more confused. They become even more stranger than that guy down the street that keeps a chainsaw on his porch. Or that lady at the store that has a mole and stares at everyone.
The less you know about someone, the less their flaws will bug you. Does that mean you should just keep to yourself to keep total peace and happiness in your mind? No. It's impossible. It's natural to want to know about everyone and everything. But you're lucky just to understand those around you.
I wonder why people do certain things. Why would you kill someone? Why would you steal? It seems wrong in my eyes. But in certain circumstances it's right for them. When they explain it to you, your thoughts go to your grandma telling you right from wrong. Then you see it from their point of view.
Your mind is sent teetering from good to bad. But which is which? It's bad in grandma's eyes but good in his. That can make your own brother, a person you've known your whole life, stranger than that person in the alley.
When I see the world, I see it through a mist. I don't know everything. Or why stuff happens. Or why people do it. I can only wonder. I feel accomplished as long as I keep peace in my mind. Even if I have to stare at my shoes when walking past people just to keep from questioning what I overhear.