u/thinking_analysis

If metacognition is perceived as the highest level of intelligence (thinking about thinking), is there something higher? If so, what thoughts are there?

This concept came to me during the song The Night We Met and this is what I see in my head during this song:

A man in a suit stands by a misty window with raindrops falling on it. His palm touches the cold glass, around which a vapor of his imprint has formed. Next to him is a white bubble of a girl who is smiling. She is wearing a long yellow dress and a red ribbon that matches her wavy hair.

Tears glistened in the man's eyes because that day was the last time he saw her.

My pencil moves across the lined paper. Its scratching sound echoes throughout the classroom.

The lines merge into lines and my dark hair falls onto the paper. A large hand lands on the paper. My breathing quickens. I don't want to see him.

I force myself to look up into the blue eyes that are watching me intently.

"Are you drawing eyes again?" he laughed and his classmates joined in.

I don't like him anymore just because he wants to get a reaction from me. I swallow the lump that's boiling in my throat.

"Go away, asshole!"

Mark raised his eyebrows and clutched his heart. "Asshole? I'm more like the God of this school." He smacked my forehead with his fingers. "And you? You're like... what's the word?" he looked back at his friends and back. "Oh yes. Dead fish."

The pencil breaks in my hand. Who does he think he is? I slowly stand up.

"I'll say it again. Go. Away. Asshole." I pronounce each word with weight, but Markus ignores me as always.

"And if not?" He leans in closer as I feel his warm breath on my neck. My breathing quickens, but I won't give in. I refuse to be his toy.

"Do you remember what happened last summer?" I smile sideways because I know it will get to him.

He pulled away and scratched the back of his neck. Something dark flashed in his eyes.

"You won't do that," he whispered softly and I cross my arms.

The cards have turned Mark.

My eyes fell on his large hand covering the picture in the middle. His big blue eyes that I see day and night. If he knew that I'd been thinking about him since that summer, I'm sure he'd kill me.

It's written in a hurry. What do you think about it?

Lately I've been thinking about other people and how their minds work. I got into cognitive science through AI when I had it map my thinking.

Is it like a muscle? Or is it innate to some extent?

"Move!" I shout at my friend who is behind me and is leaning against a tree with her hand. She obviously can't go any further.

"Can you slow down? You're running all the way." She mutters under her breath.

I ignore her and take off my backpack, from where I take out a large black pair of binoculars. It's heavy to the touch.

I hold it to my eyes and the wheels focus on the end of the rainbow, which makes a pleasant sound that only I can hear.

"It's fascinating," I point to the rainbow. We're close, Hannah.

She rolled her eyes and banged her head against the wall. There's sweat on her face, but that won't stop us.

It can't.

She starts walking again, and together we walk along the rocky path to the very end of the rainbow. Translucent colors reach high: red, yellow, and purple. I reach out to her and smile as my hand passes.

"I always wanted to be colorful!"

Hannah came closer and nodded as she clicked on her phone.

She was more into the virtual world than the real one right in front of her.

Story created in 5 minutes:

The train station is always full. Today is no exception.

"Hey miss! If you don't want to miss the train you should get on." said the train station manager in the red cap.

I wave to my family with a smile and take another step onto the train. The doors close behind me and I sit in an empty compartment.

What do I like about traveling?

Probably because every journey takes me to new places. It's a bit poetic when I think about it. I notice the door to my compartment opening.

Who is that? I wanted some privacy.

I clench my hands into fists when a man with black hair and red cheeks peeks out from behind the large suitcase he's holding in front of him.

He looks like he's run a marathon. His blue eyes meet mine, and a pleasant warmth radiates from them. I tilt my head to the side.

Who is he?

A few months ago I had a strange dream. I was riding the bus I take to school in the morning and I looked at the environment that moved with it.

I usually see a sidewalk, but in that dream I saw a bush with red berries from the bus window illuminated by the sun. In my head I connected it with a trip to another city.

I was sitting in the second row and when I looked back in my head I was like, "It's just a dream. I can control it."

Really?

As soon as I wanted to change the environment, I saw black darkness in front of me and I felt my eyes moving rapidly under my eyelids. I told myself that I didn't want to wake up yet and somehow I came back to that dream.

The bus stopped in front of the hospital and I kept telling myself that I had time because I was sleeping. But I continued with the 'story'.

I got off the bus and looked at my watch, which showed: 6:30. I usually show up at that place ten minutes late. Then my mom called me, telling me that I called.

But I didn't call her.

I looked over my shoulder and realized my purse was missing. I turned to the bus driver who had a disgusted look on his face but opened the door for me.

The bus stayed in the same place and when I went back, two women were sitting in front of me in my seat. One of them was clutching a white handbag.

I asked, "Didn't you see the black handbag here?"

While I was asking, I was already pulling it out from the space between the seat and the window.

I quickly turned around and wanted to run away, but I hit a door that I couldn't control.

The dream then jumped to the school environment, which was strange to me because I was supposed to have an internship at a hospital.

But back. I came to school and chose the back seat. A little away from me sat my classmate who always sits in the back.

But three benches in front of me were my friends, laughing and talking. I could see their backs before another girl came up to them. I felt like an observer.

For example: Snow and a tree

The first thing that comes to mind: Imagine a lone tree in a meadow. Its branches reach above the clouds where pink blossoms can be seen.

We go lower on the hard bark of the tree. This part is under the clouds from which large flakes of snow fall. All around you can see the meadow and your tracks in the snow from where you came.

You look up. Cold flakes fall on your eyelashes and you see the trunk disappearing into the mist above the clouds.

I've always had a different attitude than others. When I was three years old and my uncle came to visit us, I stood in the doorway. My mother must have read my emotion as fear because she said, "She's afraid of you."

But was I really?

I quickly started to get bored in conversations. I noticed that my tone of voice changed. Or the teachers at kindergarten looked at me differently than the other children.

I remember being dragged to play with them. Modeling. But I felt the resistance inside me. It was something that had to be done.

And the more I grew, the more I saw lies. How people look smiling on the outside but when it's quiet they suddenly seem sad. They told me I was quiet which touched me because I learned that others They see silence as absence.

Impartiality.

Ignorance.

But I also saw how the same person then, in the company of guys, was also silent and pretended not to be there.

So in my head I created and named what I saw. "People behave and are perceived differently."

So I consciously started testing it. In high school, I started talking to people. And suddenly I was perceived as an extrovert. People would come up to me. They would talk to me more. Before I was really big company.

So I decided I wanted something smaller. I found a girl who knew a lot in class and that's why I met her. I pretended to be helpless so she naturally started helping me out.

But I didn't know that something like that, if it lasts a long time, could turn against me. After a while, she started to reflect my words back to me.

,, You're helpless."

,, Everyone needs to help you."

And subconsciously I started to believe it. I had a feeling and thoughts that they were right.

But after a while, I discovered this mechanism through a video focused on cognitive processes. Then it clicked inside me and I found the root of why I have them.

That gave me back control and I remembered that I had created this whole thing. The others just strummed along.

I discovered another realization:

"A lie repeated over and over again becomes the truth."

And that day I saw why.