Were someone else; you smiled back; and there grew
Between two strangers in a library
Something that seems like love; but you loved me
(If that's the word) because you thought that I
Was other than I was. And by and by
We found we'd been mistaken all the while
From that first glance, that first mistaken smile.
Vikram Seth
I suppose we never see anyone as they see themselves, but who is right? Is there a right self, a true self? And is it not possible that the most deluded person about anyone is that person themselves. As Freud outlined, we cannot be trusted to know why we are as we are or why we have acted in a certain way. Still, some things can be said to be wrong: if someone thinks you are Russian, that can be said to be a mistake. Other things are more subjective. In the end we like people whose assessment of us matches ours to a large degree, don't we? Once you start thinking about this you go round in circles.
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