donderdag 26 maart 2009

Living the fiction without fast forward or protecting past...

Soms vraag ik me af of personen op internet wel bestaan. Of ze fictief zijn, niet meer dan een profiel, een gephotoshopte foto met zogenaamd elementen die een mens uniek maken. Alsof het personages zijn in een boek dat je las, en je je bedrogen voelt als je het boek dichtslaat en je even zo verbonden voelde met levens die helemaal niet bestaan. Je hebt in hun gedachten gezeten, je bevriend gevoeld zonder dat je zelf in hun verhaal betrokken was. En opeens besef je dat je voor hen al even onbestaand bent geweest als zij zelf waren voor de werkelijkheid... En je voelt hoe onzichtbaar je bent. Het is als spreken tegen een antwoordapparaat, een chat tegen een offline-chatter die nooit echt weer online komt.

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Sometimes I wonder if people on the internet really exist. If they are fiction, nothing more than profile, a photoshoped picture with so-called elements that make a person 'unique'. As if they are characters in a novel that you read, and you feel decepted when you close the book. You felt so connected with lives that didn't exist at all. You were living 'their' thoughts, you felt befriended without even having been a part of their story. And suddenly you realize that you were equally non-existant for them as they were for reality... And you feel how invisible you are. It is like talking to a voicemail, an instant messaging chat to an offline-chatter that never ever really reappears online again.

maandag 16 maart 2009

Too long, too quiet...

More than one month passed. I am still alive. If I was a pool, you could diagnose me with a drying out-disease. I drink liters of soymilk though, but my thirst is not easy too satisfy. There were things to discover last month. I feel as if I play the game 'find the 7 errors'. Did I find all of them or are there still black holes hiding within the framework of my life? Some people hate me for what they think I am and some love me for what I think I am not. In the end you die with empty hands anyway.

Life of a tiran. I have been writing a lot this week: letters (especially to myself), papers about Shakespeare's Richards the Third. No books, no substantial things, I am even desperately behind in blogposts for Think About It. I am motivated. I want to change the world, spread the call for change, build peace as ISFIT thought me. But conflicts appear around every corner. I see conspiracy in the footsteps of silence, read corruption in the curtains. And unfairness... I have been seeing it all my life, but it strikes me more with every bloody confrontation. Dead animal bodies everywhere, devoured by mouths that preach peace... it makes me sick, drives me mad, sad, crazy...

I saw you, that makes life better, real, more inspiring, gives sense, maybe even something to live for. A life to live in the wish that I can make you feel the same way... some day.

Thanks for visiting!