if one thinks about it, the whole idea of a blog is a truly strange concept.
the seeming contradiction has been brought up time and again.
"a public diary? wth?"
but celestial being comes to the rescue to take on the contradictions of the world upon themselves! exia, exterminating the targets! XD
ahem.
well i guess people are just foolish beings, prone to fickleness and contradiction.
we want to understand and be understood. we want to draw closer, but we only hurt each other as we do so.
so we fear proximity. a kind of social claustrophobia if you will.
the endless irony and contradiction in the convoluted waltz we partake in as humans, social conventions, personal inhibitions, an inevitable reality.
because we want to understand and be understood. we want to draw closer, but we fear we may be hurt, destroyed by the suffocating distance, yet unable to bear the cold alone in our own frigid wastelands of endless sterile white.
so we want to cry out, we want to bare our souls, wear our hearts on our sleeves, but we don't dare to do so in reality.
thus we turn to the strange detachment, dislocation, disembodiment that the internet grants us.
here one cries to a seemingly empty room, and ever so often, if one is fortunate, a ghostly echo from some corner of the globe calls back.
things become a little different however, when it becomes something frequented by people one personally encounters on a daily basis. and there are certain things one becomes acutely aware of.
now there are always things one does not say on the internet, regardless of readership. there are some things that still render a blog
different from a real diary. yet this contrast is further pronounced under the circumstances of a more "real" audience.
because we humans are creatures of contradiction. we want to be heard, but we don't want them to hear.
because all we really want is for someone to draw close to us, to embrace us for who we are, in all our painful contradiction, accepting, even loving, the flaws that define us. but we fear that who we are will render such a connection unlikely, or impossible. sometimes perhaps, we may be convinced that we
know so.
but because we want to be heard, without being heard
because we want to convey something without hurting anyone else
because of that, even now, we still cry out.
because it's okay not to smile if it won't hurt anybody
to cry in loneliness to the impassive visage of the night.