Honest to god, I love people. As a teenager, you might catch me saying otherwise in times of frustration or lack of hope for the human race, but in all actuality, I love people. The sheer fact that all of us are immensely different yet so innately similar never ceases to turn my mind upside down and possessing the ability to fall in love with strangers has made me, in turn, fall in love with writing about them.
Walk down the street and find somewhere to sit, now observe. You see an old man pass by, walking his jubilant puppy and almost instantly, your brain is making judgments about him. Maybe his wife passed away and the puppy is his only company and now he is walking her trying to calm her down but it isn't working because she's a puppy, and well, energy is an expanse for them. But wait, now an elderly lady approaches them and kisses the man on the face. Strike one. The dog lifts up a leg and leaves its scent on a tree. Strike two. Now, the dog lays down and is panting like crazy, but from here you can tell that its fur is already graying. Strike three. You thought you knew everything about him, when really, you didn't have a clue.
That's the beauty of mystery - the guessing game and the eventual strike out. You're amazed at the fact that you know so much about humans, and yet, at the same time, so little. All of us are walking contradictions and labyrinths within ourselves. It's a shame, really, how most people don't explore their own personal mazes - but there's one thing all of us do love to do: explore everyone else's.