LCH |
|
Randomness in its true form--not unintelligible, just inconsistent. Archives
Rate Me on BlogHop.com!
(but w/o the spaces and w/ the actual symbols)
Sign my Guestbook - Read my Guestbook
Other pages: |
11.06.2001
I used to have this old fearFear of being invisible. Do you suppose that there is such a phobia? There better be, because I have it. Maybe it's the fear of not being seen. If you float along life, being part of the background, you blend in. You pick up a sort of camouflage, and that's all you are. Nothing. No one would notice if you weren't there. Probably no one notices if you are there anyway. Inside jokes are like that as well. Especially if all of your friends know the joke, and no one will tell you. So you can either pretend like it doesn't matter- or you can smile and laugh and pretend like you finally figured out what it was. It's especially bad when the people who came up with the joke say that it is easy to understand and you still don't get it. So they go and have a good laugh, some good fun I suppose. Leaving you out on the outside, looking in. Thinking maybe that it's just like all the other times. Always the same, over and over. Always being left out of the inner circle. Or just being left out completely. Outside, looking in. So you're invisible. You pretend like it doesn't bother you. You go along with your day to day stuff. Maybe you purposely act weird or different just to remind yourself that you're still there. To remind yourself that you haven't faded into the background, the darkness, the mists. You aren't just another ghost that floats through life. You're really a person, you do have an identity, and you're really here. So maybe that's my definition of the fear of invisiblity. So maybe it does exist. Maybe I'm not the only one who has it. I think I kind of built a wall around myself. To keep from ever being hurt, I don't let many things faze me. So maybe I'm pull of the image of being a fun person, but not very serious-- and whose thoughts and feelings don't really matter that much. Yeah. I guess that's it. And I don't get angry very often. Well, not to the outside world anyway. To the outside world I get mad, perhaps twice a year. That's really mad though. The screaming, cussing, crying, throwing things mad. The last time that happened I ended up sitting on someone. Hm.
Comments:
Post a Comment
Contact me at: lastcrazyhorn AT gmail DOT com |