Sorry if I came off proud or anything at all in the last post. It was more for me than anyone else. I'm still trying to justify my own existence here...
Everyone looked up to me when I was growing up; they said to me, remember me when you're famous. Back then it seemed like it was a sure thing, an easy thing. We all grow up in a bubble, and then that bubble pops, and then we're in a slightly bigger bubble. It's not like schooling isn't the real world; it is. Go up to a wall and try to push it over and it will be made out of not cardboard, but brick. Things that matter there still matter in the outside world. The experiences experienced there are just as valid as experiences experienced anywhere else. But the bubble is bigger. Up till now I lived in a small world where I was somebody who meant something. I always knew, of course, that the world I occupied didn't mean much. But if someone from the outside looked into this world, came in and asked for someone important, they just might have found me. Now that I have a web log, though, I'm just another blogger on the great big internet. You go from this shelter to outside of it. It's like... It's like there's this thing, and it mattered to you the most out of all the things in the world, but now it's gone. All this time you had Mother, but Mother is dead now, so you preserve her body and dress up in her clothing. Such a paradigm shift is enough to turn anyone into a serial killer.
It's like that. But it's not that.
Can I object to being classified as dead? I'll haunt you if you say no. :)
ReplyDeleteLike I said, Mother. It's only ''like'' that.
ReplyDelete