Monday, March 29, 2010

and everyone inside the mechanism is yearning to get out

I've been realizing now more than ever that I have too many thoughts that are too candid for the internet, for a blog, even one that no one reads. So I started buying some notebooks... but I'm still too afraid to write in them. I want to name names, I want to confide things into a notebook that I never confide to anyone, and I want to make lists that are inside jokes with myself.

I have this thing where I suppress my thoughts and only letting them out in the form of abstraction, talking around the point, or the worst: accidentally dropping hints as to how I'm feeling by way of conversation patterns or secret actions that I can talk myself around and out of.

It's kind of dishonest in a way, because many things I think and feel cannot be admitted to myself except in the form of some kind of whimsical joke or "hypothetical harmless pondering." Because when you say something out loud or write it down, it gets filtered into the universe for anyone to pick up on and mess with and distort. I firmly believe that most of what we think or even do should not be spoken aloud just so it doesn't end up in some biography later on giving a truly false picture of the person in question.

And more than that-- I have this image of myself that I like to preserve in my mind so that I can believe that I am the person that I want myself to be.

Sometimes, I just don't want to admit to being vulnerable-- to having emotions that are just straight up intangible. So, I just pretend they don't exist, which is how I bet most people deal with it.  Unlike most people though, I'm normally unable to put these out of my head. So I'm doomed to endless doublethink and waiting for things to become irrelevant so I can rest my thoughts.

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