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Stop the world. I'm falling off.
reality and fiction intertwined
Created on 2008-02-04 16:49:43 (#14871750), last updated 2008-02-14
18 comments received, 32 comments posted
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13 Journal Entries, 49 Tags, 1 Memory, 10+ ScrapBook Files, 0 Virtual Gifts, 1 Userpic
Basic Info| Name: | dancefordespair |
|---|
BioA WRITER UNDER CONSTRUCTION
She was walking around in the rain, listening to music. She noticed people watching her, and she watched the people; it all felt surreal. As if, without her noticing, life had turned into a movie, the day had turned into a dream. In this movie, this dream, she could be somebody she had seen and admired. She could be all those girls she had read about in books, watched closely in movies or studied in commercials, who might have shittier lives than she actually did herself but she idolized them still because of their connection to a fascinating world; a fantasy world. A world in which she was without history.
In this way, she could change the way she would see herself in split seconds - provided that she knew none of the people around her. People who knew her always knew things about her she hadn't noticed - things she feels she should be ashamed of. She feared their thoughts; they forced her to judge herself by confronting her with her own oblivion.
I guess you might say we are all naked. Our unconsciousness still manifests itself in the things we say and how we say it, the way we stand and the look in our eyes. Only few people can control these signs; most find this a capability of great value. I, on the other hand, find the ability to express myself utterly of even greater importance than the ability to control my expressions completely - a thing I can only attempt anonymously.
In her fantasy world she escaped, only when traveling (in a very literary sense of the word), or dancing or reading a book. But she felt abandoned by this world, which had nothing more to offer her than mere mirages, and made a huge decision. She threw her clothes away, prepared to be anonymously naked in public, and claimed to be a writer [under construction].
She was walking around in the rain, listening to music. She noticed people watching her, and she watched the people; it all felt surreal. As if, without her noticing, life had turned into a movie, the day had turned into a dream. In this movie, this dream, she could be somebody she had seen and admired. She could be all those girls she had read about in books, watched closely in movies or studied in commercials, who might have shittier lives than she actually did herself but she idolized them still because of their connection to a fascinating world; a fantasy world. A world in which she was without history.
In this way, she could change the way she would see herself in split seconds - provided that she knew none of the people around her. People who knew her always knew things about her she hadn't noticed - things she feels she should be ashamed of. She feared their thoughts; they forced her to judge herself by confronting her with her own oblivion.
I guess you might say we are all naked. Our unconsciousness still manifests itself in the things we say and how we say it, the way we stand and the look in our eyes. Only few people can control these signs; most find this a capability of great value. I, on the other hand, find the ability to express myself utterly of even greater importance than the ability to control my expressions completely - a thing I can only attempt anonymously.
In her fantasy world she escaped, only when traveling (in a very literary sense of the word), or dancing or reading a book. But she felt abandoned by this world, which had nothing more to offer her than mere mirages, and made a huge decision. She threw her clothes away, prepared to be anonymously naked in public, and claimed to be a writer [under construction].
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