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Sometimes I'm quite fond of the internet.  Its ability to inform, entertain, connect me to the ones I love.  But other times I really have a muddled sense of what our relationship is.  Notably when I am presented with a blank space to type text and all I want to do is scream.  Maybe give a kick or two.  I want to textually expel all my problems and petty insecurities, as if having someone read them would reify, but also reassure me.  Reassure me that I'm being silly.  That I don't see myself right.  That everything's going to be okay.  That change is possible, and even though you don't know me--have never beheld me beyond your laptop screen, you believe in me.  You don't know why--you just do.

This is what gets cut from so many posts.  Or hidden and woven into pretty, vague language.  Or little made up stories or scenarios.  Blended with fiction and fantasy to hide the truth.  The inescapable audience.  We don't blog so we can come back in two weeks time, ten weeks time to see what we were up to.  It's quick consumption for someone else.  We all have an audience on the internet; be it one or 100,000, you're still conscious of them.  And why would anyone parade their issues, besides for attention?  The only attention you're going to get will be fleeting.  And I'm going to remember when you complained.  Not necessarily in a bad way.  It's just going to became a part of your online make up--what you let us know.  And you're gonna have to carry that with you.  On the internet.  Where nothing dies.  And baggages is measured by megabytes that can't be deleted because they are still in use by another application.

2 comments

  1. That is... haunting yet strangely beautiful, Marion.

    The thing about the Internet is that being a part of it's greater community does not require any sort of social contract. Notwithstanding that fact that reality is, sometimes unfortunately, almost always more important, the Internet is much more suited to ad-hoc relationships than anything that traditional society would regard as concrete. We all go about our business, occasionally crossing paths, exchanging thoughts, and then we drift away again.

    Why then, realising this, do we persist in putting our thoughts out into the ether? Perhaps it is for completely sincere reasons; even though we only ever project the self that we are comfortable with, we like to believe that if enough of us escapes into the minds of others we will somehow all be able to share each other's burdens. For me, the Internet can sometimes have therapeutic value simply by forcing me to frame my issues in a way which I think an audience would find somewhat entertaining, or amusing, or even beneficial. This (most of the time) prevents me from spewing raw emotions, which is both good for me, and good for any well-adjusted person who happens to be reading it. Does distilling my problems into the web equivalent of sound-bites instead of being completely and irrevocably honest make me less of an attention whore, or the absolute worst kind of liar? I have yet to decide.

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