(NOTE: Originally intended for MySpace but thought it would fit here as well.)
Hello.
How is it going?
I just wanted to get the pleasentries out of the way before I get started.
For you see, this is a paper, a report, a thesis per say, and I wanted you to know what you were getting into before we got too far. There are certain people I would like to read this fully and by just seeing this sentence, they will probably know who they are. For everyone else, enjoy.
To get the ball rolling, let us start with something a majority of us know about.
I take it you are familiar with the MySpace Truth Box? It is the application that allows people to send comments to those who have it installed it, and to send them anonymously. Most people find that it takes a certain amount of courage to install this program because some of us are afraid of what people will write in them. Me? I have one because I want to know what people have to say. We cannot fool ourselves forever, we are not perfect, there are as much bad things about us as there are good things. I am just one of those people who want to be remembered for all my mistakes along with all my successes.
The Truth Box also provides another outlet. It allows one to say things one would not otherwise say in public. You may ask if that was not what the last paragraph already dictated. Well, it is not the same idea. In the last paragraph, I told you that Truth Box was about ourselves, that it let us learn about ourselves. Here, I am refering to the Truth Box as to being about others. That is the difference. When I say others, I mean that it lets one release what one is keeping inside. It allows one to say how much one feels for another without all of the repercussions it may otherwise have. How much one cares or despises. It is a tool that gives one an outlet for emotions and stress.
For example, there is someone I know, a girl, we are not on the best of terms right now. No one is really to blame, but my man pride just cannot take another apology. I could probably remedy things by saying that I am sorry, even if there is nothing to apologize for. It is not so much the words but the action that sets things right. But I cannot. Not this time. For that, I am sorry. This is where the Truth Box comes in. With the Truth Box I could leave little messages everynow and then. Like today, she put up another picture and I did not realize that it was a new one for the longest time because it looked so much like the last. I wanted to comment on it, to say that it made her even more beautiful but because of the dilema we are in, I cannot. I would use the Truth Box to express myself, and if she knew it was me, I would never know. But now I cannot since she removed hers, and now have no outlet.
A note for those reading this, this is not a love letter. I am not trying to win her back in some discreet way. That is what got us in this mess in the first place. The condensed version is this: I liked her, not so good, I got over her, she did not believe it, problems start appearing that are not there, and here I am. If you want to judge me, go ahead, there is nothing I can do about it. Maybe you can leave me a note in my Truth Box. This bulletin is just my discussion of things, nothing more.
Moving on, I wanted people to understand that none of you really do understand me and you probably will never really get it. You, tell me, wait, do not tell me, but listen. The you, the one you put on display for everyone to see, the ones for your friends, family, maybe even yourself, is it who you really are? It is not, is it? That is what I am getting at. I do that too. For some of us, it may be unconscious or the inverse of that but the reality is that it is how the majority of us live our lives. I am not crazy, seriously, some of the things that come out of my mouth may be a tad eccentric to put it lightly, but have I really done anything noteworthy that would warrent a padded cell? People are crazy in general. I mean, what other being puts on these masks for the public? This thing we do with the deceit and lies we tell ourselves and others, it is what makes us crazy. We are not driven insane, we are couried, by our thoughts, by our experiences, by our lives.
I will use myself as an example. I will tell you about a mask I use. But first I want to tell you that the beauty of me telling you these things right here is that, even after this confession, you will become oblivious of my mask when you see me again. That just goes to show how crazy we are. However, the craziest part is that even I will be fooled and forget all about the mask I, myself, put on. Call it perceptual adaptation if you will, but I call it sad.
I went on a bit of a tangent back there but I am back on track. The example is this: my school face. First, allow me to explain, for all those who already know what I am talking about, bear through it. If you were to meet me wherever, you would see someone who may be considered funny, or at least the master of stupid jokes, someone who is at most, pleasent to be around, dependable, always smiling, full of eccentric ideas, a bit of a jerk (at least to other guys), a gentleman (to the ladies), a little off the beaten path of the typical teenager. For the most part, that is all wrong. Even though pieces of the description are true, a majority is false. For you see, this is the face you are supposed to see. Spend enough time around me and you will notice how my attitude and personality continue to change and conform depending on my location and who I am with. Around certain people, I will make dirty jokes, around others I talk intelligently, others will get my rants and crazy ideas, others will receive my compassion, others, my anger.
What I am trying to say is that everyone that I am with gets a different part of me. Usually there is overlap between groups and other times, there is only a fake me. The reason we wear these masks, at least, the reason I wear them, is that who we are, who we really are, are the people that others are not ready to see.
If I told you that I see myself as a demon who wishes that he were an angel, what would you say? If I told you that I see the world as a terrible place and that I am as bad as the rest of them, what would you say? What if I told you that I wish I could die but that it was my curse to live, what would you say then? For you see, our insides are disgusting, necessary, beautiful, useless, and private, that is why others are not allowed to see them and that is why we hide them, whether we know it or not. I will you tell this fact aobut me, the truth is, my greatest dream is not to rule the world, it is something much more down to Earth, something much closer to home, something dear, and I am not going to tell you exactly what it is, because you are not ready.
I believe I am done for now. Perhaps, in time, I will write more, but for now, I am tired. I have exhausted my mental capacity for the time being. Until next time. Post something about this to me or as a comment if it interests you to do so. Good night my friends, it is time we continue to endure the beauty and misery of life.
