Knowing how I think.
Ulises Vargas
November 28, 2025.
I think too much.
I know that I think too much because I thought about it:
do most people spend their days
lost in their minds, analyzing anything and everything—
or am I the only one?
I don’t get it; I can’t get it:
how do most people coexist without thinking about all of this?
Is anyone even home?
Are they conscious when they act?
Are they conscious of others?
Are they conscious?
At what developmental stage did I go wrong,
to be so metacognitive and cursed with awareness?
Or is it all the unconscious people who never developed
to see within and beyond themselves?
Others point and laugh at them,
and they wonder if their shoes are untied;
Others point and laugh at me,
and I see the embodiment of all my shame;
a comprehensible, regrettable, and undeniable shame.
The unconscious people cannot comprehend,
and thus they have no shame.
I was born this way, and I learn increasingly until I know too much,
given my propensity for observation and analysis.
I know too much, being metacognitive and cursed with awareness.
Those unconscious people, who know not that they do not know,
are not cursed with this same monologue and understanding.
The critic within me unravels every life’s mystery,
such that nothing is left alone, and my thoughts overflow.
There are no secrets: only answers yet to be found.
There is no chance: only certainties which lack proof.
There is no real wonder
because nothing is unexplainable and left to chance.
Where most see novelty,
I see consistency with everything else I’ve seen;
every action, reaction, and response I’ve seen,
and know too well the meaning of this unexplainable thing.
Giggle: smile hard and genuinely with glazed eyes and clapping hands,
with neither care nor worry;
with neither knowledge nor thought,
at the funny and playful show.
I will be so removed from the show
that either I am the director,
or I know the director’s vision very well.
No mystery.
Nothing unexplainable.
No escape from knowing what I know.