Thanks for reading all the way through! Cut is my attempt to illustrate the essence of protagonist thinking, which entails viewing your life as a story – a story in which you function as the central figure, or “main character.” Protagonist thinkers are in the habit of internalizing their lives as plot developments, in a story so captivating, that it would surely draw an audience if ever shown in the theaters. Protagonist thinkers might even fantasize that their lives are being projected onto a screen somewhere in real time, and that the audience is rooting for them and sympathizing with them as they follow the various scenes of their lives.

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Whether it’s consciously or subconsciously, so many of us have engaged in this type of protagonist thinking at some point or another, to varying degrees of severity. It can be employed in almost any situation, but it seems that we are the most susceptible to it during times of difficulty, as represented in Cut. At least for me, when I'm sad, angry, or failing, I can use protagonist thinking as a sort of defense mechanism to justify myself. Surely, I'll tell myself, that if the “audience” had seen the entire story’s development, complete with all my struggles, then they would be sympathetic to me. And maybe they would be, but that's beside the point.

 

Convincing ourselves (and our imagined “audiences”) that we are sympathetic characters is what protagonist thinking as all about. It can take many forms, but regardless, it comes down to constructing stories and narratives around objective reality that support and promote our images as sympathetic main characters. This can make us feel justified and validated in our emotions, a greater sense of self-importance, and a comforting distance from the weight and harshness of objective reality. The obvious irony, though, is that there is no audience, and that there is no movie.

 

Although protagonist thinking can be an effective defense mechanism, it’s somewhat of a departure from reality. It makes the world appear to revolve around us, when in fact, it doesn't. Quite the opposite, actually. So, to what extent do we warp reality to tell ourselves what we want to hear – that we are important, justified, and sympathetic? And furthermore, to what extent can we actually convince ourselves that the narratives we create are true representations of our objective realities?

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Cut isn't meant to answer these questions. It's simply meant to pose them. I've learned a lot about myself in thinking about them, and it is my hope that you will too.