At face value, it’s the kind of image you’d scroll past and smirk at — a bright little stack of square blocks, neatly arranged, with a caption that dares you: “Most People Are Narcissists… Count the Squares.” It reads like a harmless brain teaser. Count what you see, drop a number, move on.

But the moment you actually try to count, something interesting happens.

You realize the “right” answer depends on what your brain decides is worth noticing.

So… how many squares do you see?

Most people respond fast. They count the obvious top-facing squares — the ones that jump out immediately — and confidently commit to a number. Others slow down and include the front-facing squares too. A smaller group starts hunting for partial faces and overlaps, trying to decide whether a square that’s “kind of visible” counts as a full square or not.

And that’s where the image stops being just a counting game and starts being a tiny mirror.

Why people get different answers

Human perception isn’t a camera. It’s a filter.

Your brain is constantly trying to save energy. It prioritizes speed and efficiency over completeness, because in real life that usually works. You see the clearest surfaces first. You assume the structure is simple. You stop once you feel you’ve “got it.”

This is one reason optical puzzles work so well: they exploit the brain’s habit of treating first impressions like finished conclusions.

That habit is closely related to cognitive bias — mental shortcuts that help us decide quickly, but sometimes make us blind to details we didn’t initially expect to matter.

So when two people look at the same image and give different numbers, it’s not always because one person is careless and the other is smart.

Often it’s because they defined the task differently without realizing it:

“Count the squares I can clearly see”
vs.

“Count every square face visible from any angle”
vs.

“Count all squares that exist in the structure, including implied/partially hidden ones”

Those are three different questions.

Where the “narcissism” angle sneaks in

The caption is provocative on purpose. It plants a social trigger: If you miss something, it implies something about you.

And that’s the real hook.

Because the moment someone feels judged, the puzzle stops being about squares and becomes about identity.

That’s when you see the “I’m right” reflex kick in:

“No, it’s definitely 8.”

“I counted carefully.”

“You’re overthinking it.”

“That doesn’t count because it’s not fully visible.”

Notice what’s happening: the conversation shifts from curiosity (“Oh, interesting — how did you see that?”) to defense (“My answer has to be correct.”)

Clinically, narcissism is a specific personality pattern and diagnosis-related concept — inflated self-importance, strong need for admiration, low empathy, etc. Most people are not clinical narcissists.

But the caption isn’t really talking about clinical narcissism. It’s pointing at a very common, very human behavior:

Ego-protection.

The impulse to protect being “right,” especially in front of others, even when the stakes are literally… a stack of squares.

The real trick: perspective and definitions

These block puzzles usually hide complexity in plain sight:

some squares are top-facing

some are front-facing

some appear because of depth and layering

some are “suggested” by edges but aren’t actually fully visible

Your final number changes depending on whether you:

count only full, clearly visible faces

count faces visible on multiple sides

count the total squares in the whole structure (including hidden ones)

That’s why people argue.

Not because the puzzle is “deep,” but because most people never pause to agree on what the word count means in this context.

And that maps perfectly to real life.

We do the same thing with arguments:

We “count” only the facts that support our position.

We treat what’s most visible to us as the whole reality.

Someone else sees a different angle, and instead of thinking, Maybe I missed a side, we think, They’re wrong.

What the puzzle is actually testing

Not intelligence.

Not math skills.

Not whether you’re a narcissist.

It’s quietly testing two things:

1) Attention

How much detail do you naturally scan before you decide you’ve seen enough?

2) Humility

When someone else gets a different number, do you get curious… or defensive?

That’s the “lesson” the caption is trying to push: growth starts when you’re willing to look again.

So what’s the answer?

Without the actual image in front of me, I can’t responsibly give the exact square count — because these puzzles vary a lot, and the “correct” answer depends on whether hidden/partial squares are meant to be included.

But if you want, paste the image (or describe the exact stack layout: rows/columns/layers), and I’ll do two useful things:

give the count under the most common rulesets (visible faces only vs. total squares)

show the counting method step-by-step so it’s verifiable

Either way, the punchline still stands:

The most important square isn’t on the picture.

It’s the moment you decide to count again.