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2005-01-04 - 4:53 p.m. WARNING: This little ditty isn't political, it isn't happy, it isn't random nonesense. It isn't part of a debate. I know a lot of you don't like reading about other people's woes, but sometimes people want to write about them. That is why this warning is on here. If this isn't your gig, pass it by, and don't begrudge the person that wrote it. I figured something out. I am nobody. How can I be nobody? Simple. I'm not going to elaborate on how this came about. But a good point was made. I live through everything that is not me. I live through the books, and the movies, the stories of other people, and of other worlds. Me, as a person, is non-existant. I was posed the question: could I go six months without my bookcase, and without my tv. I couldn't. My bookcase consists of mostly fiction, in case you were wondering. I spend most of my day imagining fantastical situations, and other lives for me. I have no actual characteristics. What other people see is just a back-up mode, like emergency power. This is what I act like when I'm not there. And I don't know when the last time I was there, er, here, was. |
