Seeing-self-in-other

No matter how much explaining is done to demonstrate reasons for why I think the mind is an epiphenomenon of brain activities, we latch onto the psyche or subject as though it were a lifeline rescuing us from drowning in a whirlpool or as I have wondered about, a void. I can think about the inner workings of the brain, all the while being subject to a perspective that accounts for my thoughts as only phantoms that trick me into believing that they are real.  Somehow, if I can prove that I am minimal, I will be able to ignore the beast behind me.  That beast presses me up against the stark reality of the emptiness I feel and delivers a blow which rocks my inner world in such a way that is fundamentally unable to be dealt with, no matter which defense I might wield against it.  It is better for me to think I don’t exist, on my own terms, than it is to have that conclusion remind me as a force and in such a shocking way.  If I were to put myself into other’s shoes then I might have some empathy, hence the definition of empathy.  What good empathy does when I find such fear and grievance against myself?  Speaking in such terms seems trite considering all that ails the world around, but between the fear and the suffering I know or know of nothing haunts like which I once felt honing in on me over my shoulder.  Thinking about the other reminds that the other which behaves like me is like me; somehow this seems like faulty thinking, because the other may just be acting and therefore just seem to be like me. Getting beyond self in order to see the other clearly is a monumental movement toward self awareness. The concern with so many other entities which arise from my interactions with the world convinces me that there is something impersonal about the entity over my shoulder. By looking at the other I realized my consciousness is interdependent upon that person or thing.