Feb 2, 2013
As a person who has nothing to say, I sometimes wonder why I keep a blog. I have no ideas, no contemplations, no plush procession of prose threading through my thoughts. I’m a passive beast, like coral. I drift through a fog of monotony, eyes down and back hunched, ignoring all opportunities and chances for betterment, preferring to live in my own demented concoctions. Sharing them with no one. Sharing myself with no one. Reveling in disillusionment, plastering the fecal sensations of depravity and moral turpitude like paint on my ego, so as to shelter it from the regular battering of the real world. Preferring to talk behind a keyboard than with my own voice, for fear that no one would listen. Fear. We have touched on the central matter. I am a coward. Afraid to live, or perhaps, afraid of not being allowed to live. So I reject it. Reject living, reject opportunity, reject it all. Reject you all. Box myself in this walled room with my computer and pretend to be waiting, but not know what I am waiting for. There must be something, I say, there must be something I am waiting for, or else why would I be waiting? I am too afraid to admit that there is nothing. If I do, I’d have to stop waiting and do something. To do something is to take a risk, and that is something I refuse to do. So I prevail, in a twisted beam of sunlight I have collected and stored within a recess in my mind. I live there, where there are no rules, no fuss, no headache. There is only me and whatever else I wish to be.
And that is why you mustn’t mind me.