It’s impossible to understand other people. At least for me it’s not possible, because the more I try to understand, the more I get confused. I’m not puzzled over other people. No, I wonder about my own reactions when dealing with other people. I realize that I don’t know myself at all.
Being a stranger to myself, how can I know anything about other people?
There are situations that take you by surprise and you look at yourself astonished and say: Well, I didn’t know I had this rage in me. Oh dear, I’m actually bitter and jealous. Where does this hate come from? Why is the thought of killing somebody suddenly very tempting?
Hey, this is me! The kind and loving person who has a wide and gentle heart and who’s got wisdom and patience and understanding. Why do I feel these things? Where do they come from?
I don’t know myself a bit. I can’t understand my reactions. Time after time, I must confess it: I thought I knew, but I don’t. I’ll never know.
That’s why I don’t even try to understand other people. I just try to cope with them.