Afraid to face the truth.

If I didn’t have myself to talk to, I’d be in bad shape. But I talk to myself all the time. And that means I’m in good shape. Mentally. Emotionally. Because I know how to help myself. And because I’m honest. With myself. And I talk when I need to talk. I’m always with myself. I’m never alone. Because I have me. Morning. Noon. Or night. I can always rely upon myself. Nobody else is as reliable as me. I’m reasonably close to several other people. But I’m closest of all to myself. I’m the only one that can get inside myself. Oh, I try to get inside others. But that’s an impossible task. I suspect that some others don’t come close to knowing themselves. And I try to tell them that. By asking penetrating questions. To make ‘em think. But so very many object to personal questions. They want to protect their privacy, or so they say. But I think it’s more than that. They don’t have the answers. And that embarrasses them. Of course, I see no valid reason for them to be embarrassed. Better to admit they don’t know. That they really haven’t ever really thought about such matters as happiness. What it is. And how to pursue it. I see out there many, many unhappy people. Unhappy with their jobs. Unhappy with other people. Unhappy with themselves. Unhappy with life. And they have no clue about how to become happy. Because they are afraid to probe. They are afraid to face the truth about themselves. –Jim Broede