Tuesday, April 28, 2009

12. Simulacra.

I got a ride home from a friend yesterday. It was the only way I could avoid the stop. I thought about just walking to the next stop, but I knew I would have to pass L's stop and would be tempted to see if there was a new note. On the way home I wonder if L put up another note? Or if L saw that someone, that I, defaced the last note? I secretly hope that L feels thwarted and realizes that all the effort is for nothing, that no one is taking the notes seriously. It's just another flier, another notice, another thing for people to ignore. I do feel guilty for feeling this way and for admitting it. I'm in such an awful place right now and it's all because of L's notes, so if I feel awful I hope L feels the same way, if not worse. I know I'm being mean, but I don't care.

When I get home, I try to write in my journal to rid myself of the self depreciating mood I am in.

Thanks Will Lion!

Halfway through I stop and I realize that my writing is very reminiscent of L's voice, which is another reason why I need to purge myself of the stop and of L and of the notes. This is what I wrote:

"I'm afraid of being honest. I fear complete truth. My life is defined by the carefully constructed lies that come come from my lips. I'm the most fucked in the head person that walks among us; I fit in just enough, but in reality I'm teetering on the brink of normality.

I know too many truths about myself that it scares me. I believe that even the most knowledgeable person doesn't know as much as I know.

And this is what I know:

I know that I know nothing real and true about myself, yet I know just enough to know that this is who I am - a person so insecure and scared of being completely exposed that I will never truly be close to another human being. I am so far removed from myself that when I look at my face in the mirror, I don't see myself looking back at me, I see a created version of me reflecting a false image of someone I want to be but will never know; a distorted me is my reality. I know what I need to do in order to get by; in order to survive; in order to live. If my mind couldn't create a venue for escape into an alternate reality, into a world I disillusion myself to exist in, I could not exist. One truth I will admit is in this real life I am numb to everything I interact with, even to myself. And I move through my one and only life like a zombie. I know this. L knows this. And now you know this."


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