I know you

People always think they know me. They think that they have met me before. They can never quite place me though, never quite know when or where this supposed meeting should have taken place. Yet they remain quite convinced. I once had a lengthy argument with someone so convinced he had met me in a city I had never been to before that I conceded simply to shut him up.

This has happened my entire life and I have come to the conclusion that something, about either me or my face, has a general type of familiarity for people. Perhaps I have such a nondescript type of face that it’s easy to impose other people’s characteristics onto it. But it has served me well over the years. Many feel immediately comfortable around me, feeling a familiarity that stems from this perceived previous meeting. They feel an existing connection. They open up.

It does, however, stand in stark contrast to the disconnectedness I feel towards my own face. I avoid mirrors, not overly intentionally, perhaps by habit, but I struggle to meet my own eye. My reflection feels other to me. Photographs even more so. Maybe this is why I can never photograph my face. I have such trouble imposing myself onto it.