Pillowsophy - thoughts that run as I lay my head and stare at the darkness of the ceilings trying to fall asleep.

It’s 6.20 am yesterday and I just finished a novel by Paulo Coelho. After 4 seating, I finally finished reading it. No, I’m not going to do a review of the book although I can say that it is a good read.

Few days back I never knew about the author or his books. It all started when after a few ongoing and outgoing text messages about roadrunners (yes, the cartoon show), she said, “I’m reading a novel by Paulo Coelho, ‘The Zahir- a novel of obsession’, and it reminds me of you”. Me??

I replied, “In what way?” curiously. “Lots of thing, the way you write in your blog, the things you told me about life (sometimes you do that but you don’t realized), books you read. Lots more. I can’t name them all.”

Now, I’m getting more intrigued. “Is it good or bad?”

Still after a few minutes, she didn’t reply. I checked my inbox sent messages to check whether I’ve sent the text. I did. But just to be sure, I send another of the same text, “Is it good or bad?”

My phone is lying there on my desk, still silent. I was with friends having conversations before a futsal game, so for that moment I choose to ignore the unreplied message, feeling ignored myself by the fact that I wasn’t getting the answer to my question.

I decided to check it on the internet. Bla bla bla..It reads on about the author and his books. The next day I decided to go looking for the novel but only managed getting a copy on the day after coz Harris doesn’t have it or rather the clerk is so busy not to attend to the needs of a customer like me. I got it at MPH City Square and read it the same night trying to find an answer or rather trying to find a connection about the book and myself.

Oh, she text me a message in the evening saying that she was feeling sleepy the other day and fell asleep before replying to my message. She apologized and gave me an answer to my question, “Of course it’s good, how can be it bad?” This time I didn’t answer her question but quickly changing the subject. And not telling her that I bought the novel, I decided to finished the novel and see or discover myself what she see of me in the novel.

So, here I am at 6.20am in the morning, still haven’t got one clue of what she meant. I pick up my phone and searched her text messages in the inbox hoping if the message is not erased yet. Carefully I read her message again slowly. There it was, she said “...books remind me of you”. How did I miss that? Its books that remind her of me rather than the novel.

Ok, the novel was not a waste; it’s really a good reading. But still, looking back I feel really stupid. Like why did it bother so much for me to know what people think of me? Be it bad or good? Or is it I do not know myself? Am I so insecure that I try to find myself to thoughts in the eyes of others?

But who am I? How do I define myself?

I don’t really found an answer for that yet. But a few ideas sprung to my mind. If let say I am the only human being on earth, then maybe I wouldn’t bother to know who I am. Nobody will judge me. But here God created the human beings in many. And I guessed the key to know myself is getting to know the many of my kinds that God created. There I will have the options to become better or worse. Good or bad.

And I realized that bad people is important so we can have a comparison between the good. So we can have an example of what bad is. So again, who am I?

I am the collective impressions, ideas and feelings of what other think of me and what I think of myself by what I think others thought of me.

But first I must choose to be good in ways that I’m able and know. By the examples set upon me and by knowledge and the life experiences I gained.

By choosing to be good, we are still open to be judge bad or whatever they might think of us. So I guessed now, we got to choose to whom we listened to regarding our self. Forget the majority or the minority issue, but it is from the person we care or more importantly who we know care about us that the opinions, impressions or thoughts mattered most.  

So I would rephrase it to be , “ I am the collective impressions, ideas and feelings of what others (of people who I care and/or the people who genuinely cared for me) think of me and what I think of myself by what I think others* thought of me.”

Now, it seems that it doesn’t matter how she said that books reminds her of me but I guessed it’s a good feeling to know that how a friend out there, is thinking of you.