Well folks, since my posts this week have been more on the “sweetness and light” side, I think it’s high time I mixed things up, and altered the mood a little. At first I thought of a rant, which I typed out just for you guys (doesn't that make you feel soooo special? ), but perhaps that's not the best method for venturing off the beaten path. Instead, I'm going to share something with you. This is a guest post, an essay that I couldn't resist sharing (with permission of the writer, of course), because it's very well written and struck a chord with me. It was written by DuplexEmotions. I hope you will enjoy it.


"Journals"


As I was driving to a LAN party this afternoon, something popped into my mind.
I really could not place it in any context, but I had a pad of post-it notes and
a black Bic on me, so I wrote it down. Good thing I did, for I did not remember
it until I pulled the post-it out of my pocket later.

What it said was “People are my diary; it’s a journal that writes back.”

Then I thought about it. I do not keep a record of my life; as far as I know,
nobody does. I depend on the people I converse with to remember me. And these
people shape my own memories, define my life as much as they record it. It’s led
me to wonder why I spread the story of my life with complete strangers on the
internet. It’s a way of knowing that my own life will live on, that everything I
say will in some way influence others, lead to a change in their own life in
some minor degree.

I always feel alone when I’m in a crowded room. When I’m with more than two or
three people, I seclude myself, for I can no longer be the center of attention.
I cannot share my story, so I am silent and listen to theirs. In this way, I am
their own record, their own legacy. Perhaps that’s the real reason for
interaction. The idea that people will remember you, that when your
bones become dust you will not dissolve entirely into nothing, is enticing. I’ve
always felt this way.

And now I find myself in love. I no longer want to solely spread my story, I
genuinely enjoy spending time with her. We can sit and do nothing for hours, and
be comfortable, or we can spill our guts and talk for hours. It’s an interesting
feeling, and vaguely disconcerting. The idea of finding something more important
than self is a very strong one, and she is just that. The sharing isn’t as
important anymore as the contact.

That’s what people really want, I think. To feel that there are others like
them, and not to feel completely and terribly alone when in a room full of
people. To be accepted for what you are, not shunned because you don’t fit in.
To be a part of something, to know somebody else has the same depth of feeling
as you do.

I’m sorry I’m keeping this thing short. When you don’t know what to feel, there
isn’t much you can say. Perhaps there will be a time when I can make heads or
tails of this, and if there is such a time, I will keep you all informed.
Perhaps it isn’t something that’s meant to be understood. Only time will tell.

Wow.
That does kinda strike a cord.
and your right.It is VERY well written

Agreed, good stuff. That has a lot of truth to it.

Personally i think that someone has an interest in you and you are at a stage in life where you are not ready to get into a relationship with anyone at this time, but just remember that life is like a road "there are many twists and turns, but navigating them with closed eyes is very hard, "open up a litlle ,not much, just abit and get to know this new person who every they may be and don't be afraid to asl question

BTW i also happen to have some experience in counselling!!!

Nicely done John

Quote: Originally Posted by Ben Nicely done John

Indeed! Well done!

That is very well written.

nice job bro

Very interesting view. Really makes a person stop and think.

Kinda in the vein of what I've had in my sig for awhile.... the first part, anyway...

"If I cease to go out in public, do I cease to exist?"

You just spelled it out much much better than I did, Duplex... and um, yea.. I wanna talk to you sometime. IM me...