Let's Not Always Assume

We misread people all the time—projecting our own fears, insecurities, and assumptions onto them. The narratives our minds construct to make sense of these misinterpretations can consume us. It happens with first impressions, and it happens with those we have known our entire lives. We analyse why they said something a certain way, why they looked at us like that, why they did what they did. We feel compelled to decode them, to categorise them into one of the many boxes society has conditioned us to believe people should fit into.

But it doesn’t work that way. We are multidimensional beings—we do not belong in boxes. Instead of overanalysing and distorting reality, we must return to simplicity. We must channel our inner child: ask freely, without agenda, and hold space for every possibility before driving ourselves mad with fabricated scenarios. Too often, we turn ourselves into victims and cast others as villains—for no justifiable reason.

Every one of us carries energy. If someone glances at you the wrong way or reacts with impatience or bluntness, it’s easy to internalise it: They must be upset with me. And from that single moment, the day feels off-kilter. You stew over their reaction, dissecting it, trying to pinpoint its cause—until, without realising it, you pass that same impatience or bluntness onto someone else. Suddenly, it isn’t just about them anymore. Your mind starts listing all the things you dislike about them—the way they dress, what they post on Instagram. But the truth is, it was never about the tie they wore or their social media presence. It was about you.

That’s called projecting. The parts of ourselves we have yet to heal, the insecurities we try to suppress—they surface, disguised as judgments of others. The real question isn’t about what they said or how they looked at you. The real question is: How is your internal world? Are you tending to it with care?

It’s a strange chain reaction—one in which we are all merely guessing, assuming, and misinterpreting, yet rarely asking outright. So we walk through life half-blind, making up our minds about people before ever engaging in a conversation that goes beyond surface-level pleasantries—what they do for a living, how much they earn, where they live.

Vulnerability is vital. Imagine saying, Hey, you looked at me strangely the other day, and I’ve been worried I did something wrong. Or, When you said that, I wasn’t sure what you meant, and it made me feel uneasy—can you clarify?

Most of us don’t do this enough (myself included) because we fear being seen as too sensitive. But if someone asked me that, I would admire their honesty. I would be grateful—because I can relate. I would never want someone to mistake my words, a sigh, or a delayed response as something it wasn’t.

So much of how people react has nothing to do with us. And yet, this is precisely why clear communication, difficult questions, and genuine vulnerability matter. It goes both ways—it saves time, spares unnecessary suffering, and brings clarity where silence breeds uncertainty.

If someone hurts you, tell them how their actions made you feel. If you change your mind about something, be honest—don’t leave others in the dark.

If someone is acting out of character, resist the instinct to take it personally. Instead, ask them what’s wrong. More and more, people are internalising their struggles, numbing themselves with distractions—phones, overworking, self-imposed isolation—simply to avoid a 30-second conversation. And yet, that conversation is the simplest, most human form of healing we can offer each other. A space where truth is unearthed. A moment of relief, unburdened by pretence.

It would be a grave mistake to believe that people are nothing more than the sum of a single conversation, a photograph, a first impression, or another person’s opinion of them.

Don’t assume.

Make time for deep, meaningful conversations.

Hold space—neutral, patient, and steady—for one another. Hold space for authenticity and vulnerability.

Listen closely. There is always more beneath the surface.

We all long to emerge from the darkness, reaching instinctively for a hand that feels safe. That is when the light becomes irresistible, when resistance fades, when surrender feels like home.

That is when we step into the warmth.

When we feel heard. When we feel seen. When we feel loved.