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They may say life just is
Things just are
Events just happen
Is no more than the product of
But my pattern-seeking mind
Can’t help but to find
A strange order to the chaos
That is causality
Were these paths prepared?
I live by choice
Yet I choose upon circumstance
Directed by Existence
Led by Obligation
Pulled by Necessity
Driven by Desire
Maybe I’ve had no choice
And while that could make my path
I say it makes it
If my “choice” is by design
A design I cannot fathom
I will be
What I “became”
In the Future that has already been
Life is a game
It gives you choices
But directs your experience
You can’t choose outside what the game intends
But its guidance secures its enjoyment
If you keep going
You will reach the end
As prescribed long before you started playing
Specifically designed to make playing
Worth your time and effort
So I keep playing
Because my game’s still going
You know, for me this all started out as a story. A work of fiction.
An escape, if you will, taken in a direction inspired by media.
A classic tale of self-insertion...a "Gary Stu"...set in a "perfect" world with issues fit for the likes of the protagonists.
It's funny to me now; I used to take it so seriously.
The characters...they kinda' developed minds of their own. I began to see them as outside of myself. I even started to look for them outside myself. Yes, in real-life.
It's all fun and games until you convince only a couple that perhaps you're right. Is this an rp taken too far? But no one's role-playing as much as they're role-finding.
It gets better when things kinda' turn out how they do in the book. They aren't perfect matches, but enough to make it seem true to yourself. A little scary, honestly. Coincidence? Certainly. But oddly convenient (or rather, inconvenient).
It's in the past now. But I still write. I still write that same story (and it's far from completion). There are more characters, and more "truths" to be seen. But I don't take it seriously anymore. At least, not in that manner.
But curiously strikes. I have these day-dreams. My own "little" world as a strange prophecy. Within this future lies certain politics, certain "divisions" of characters...and more personally, certain friends, and certain partners.
Yet only reality is "real". I'm not disappointed. The book's not particularly all rainbows and butterflies. One side of me says that I've taken too far.
The other...says I haven't taken it far enough.
As I write and plan, my world matures...and so do my philosophies and my beliefs and theories. It is the extension of myself, and in many ways I'm still in it and of it.
I could be ashamed that the ones I know the best are my characters. While some could find some merit in that, it could be strange that I find comfort in that. In body I am indeed in touch with reality as I need to be, but in "spirit", I suppose, I am of my own world. A guilty pleasure. But a stimulating one.
Someday, someone will join me. It would be our little "in-joke". Our shared lens. Our shared perception. Until then, like a mad scientist I labor in secret hoping to create something "so crazy that it just might work". There's no doubt that I'm a bit looney.
But can I justify it?
I've reached a point where I've stopped questioning things.
It's not that I have all the answers. I just have the answers that I need. And for anything that I can't prove to myself, I have developed the answers that I want.
It appears my other entries here were lost, but basically they were evidence that I've shown an interest in sticking with the community even without much of a direct reason. Just to be around, to see what's up, and to be available and aware.
The other aspects of my life continues: work, college, and other personal projects. But my psychological (spiritual?) journey has reached a stasis: I don't know what's next.
So maybe it's why many have simply faded from the community: they get to a certain point and don't wish to continue mulling around in something that they've gotten far enough in. You come for support, you get that support, and then you reach a point where you honestly don't really need that type of support. I don't know this, of course, but it's a practical guess, no?
Things have changed in the communities since 2008. I don't think I fit in too well anymore. I guess it's not really about "fitting in". It's purpose. It's having a reason to be here. It's having some sort of goal. Do I have one? I think so, but I can't materialize it. It's abstract. It doesn't really equate to anything on its own. I don't even know if it could make sense, let alone be viable. I won't attempt to explain it because there isn't a qualifiable idea to explain. It's just…an urge? A need? A hunch? The nag that something has to fill that hole, but what?
So I lurk (sorry). I'm always around, listening and understanding, but I never wish to say anything unless I'm called out specifically. Waiting for an opportunity, I guess. But I could just as well move on and leave at any point.
I will say this: I feel like half of the reason that I don't fit in is because I'm not struggling with much of anything right now. Many in these communities are looking for others to relate to for comfort, and they struggle with a lot of things that I've either gotten out of or just simply never went through. People qualify others with their experience, so in that regard I don't have many qualifications. But I'm intelligent. Reasonable. Logical. Honest. Patient. Tactful. But what are these qualities to one experiences pain everyday? I know there's more to it all than that, but from a shallow, bandwagon perspective it's what you get: I end up feeling like I don't belong. I don't believe that, but the "feels" are there. And there is still some truth in what I feel.
I guess for me there's no such thing as a short blog entry (or short anything!). I thought about making this a forum post to garner responses, but I don't need them. This is indeed a more-or-less personal dump, but feel free to comment if there's something you think I should hear from you.
As I said, I'm always listening.
In the most non-creepy way possible (I swear).