Tuesday, May 09, 2006
I often tell myself I am going to forget some of the things from the past. Not particular though, as I still hold on very dearly to a number of "events" from my personal history. Many I would like very dearly to forget, including even a few people, but there remains some genuine emotion and joy that I find in reflective thinking. I find it very thought-provoking, especially things are dug up at an angle I did not approach with my own shovel.
All of this ponderance reminds me how individualistic I really am. Unfortunately it hurts my state of being to a large extent, and I often find myself not being able to be someone I truly want to be. I have become more complicated than I ever wished to be. Some may find this shocking, a few may see it as normal (depending on your Knowledge (Grey) skill check), and still others will scratch their head in amusement, laughter, or plain dumbfoundedness. Why have I led this life of mystery? It comes to my attention that the people that I consider close friends, at least the one or two that I do, have no knowledge of parts of me that defined my life at one point.
My past, something I had nearly forgotten and once even tried to discard, came back tonight. In a sense I did not know how to deal with this. The same feeling of uncomprehensible wantedness overcame me. Why me? I always ask. I get an answer, but it doesn't click. It's like dry-firing a revolver--relieving to hear the empty click. My life can't be solved by a game of Russian Roulette. It simply is not the simple. When did it become so complex? It takes many years to weave such a tangled web and everyday I work on it a little more, unknowingly adding more content, usually in the form of lies and bullshit, to said web.
I've become so enthralled in my own world lately, both in the real and fantasy worlds, that I am begining to feel more human as the days progress. The environments are beginning to merge and the need for responsibility in the real world is mimicked only by my duties in the fantasy realm. Yes, I am weird. Twenty three years old now and still haven't figure out how to online-bank, but I sure can slay a mean dragon. In fact I've probably killed enough monsters in the years I have been alive to fill thirty lifetime's worth of days. Could be forty, but who's counting? I usually lose track after four..
My life has been limited only by the experiences that others allow me to endure. I can only feel so much love as I have been given; only fight so many lizardmen as my fellow adventurers want. What is true freedom? Surely it is not found in the texture of the real world, the pixelated realm of computer gaming, or even the imaginary treks in Dungeons & Dragons.
I've never learned.
Some day perhaps, some day.
Much love to everyone. Have a great day.
Grey (4:02 AM)