<lj-cut text="Is there a little link to click on this time? Did I do it?">
The one common desperation we all share is the constant need for human contact.
It's been called 'skin hunger' when this applies to actual human touch. Evidently it's as strong in young teenage girls as the need to beat the living crap out of things is in teenage boys. It's not quite sexual- the need to hug, to hold, to kiss, but not have anything else from it: skin hunger. Simple proof that we are not alone.
The emotional equivelant of this is to know each other through the internet.
Though we've never met and probably never will, despite the fact that we have no idea what another person looks like and even though there's a chance it's all a trick, we very much enjoy spilling our souls onto online journals. Into stories- whether fanfiction or original work- where people we don't know who share a common interrest will read and tell us their all too important opinion.
People have said things on the internet everyone knows no one would speak a word of in real life. And that's the thing- who is this person that you talk to? Though they respond with glee to everything you might say, perhaps in real life they are shy. Are they on a fancy laptop at home, or are they in the library? In an internet cafe? In their basement hiding from an abusive uncle? Would they tell you and only you if they were abused?
And what would you do about it?
It's a kind of theropy almost. The most vile things in the world aren't always spoken of, and secrets are usually kept. Online journals are the safest way to spill your guts. One thousand people could read about a rape and unless they know something about the person besides their email or their pen name they can do NOTHING. Suicidal people can tell their entire self loathing life hating stories only to you, and you'll only know that something went wrong when for months their livejournal stands absolutely still. Maybe you won't even notice.
I've read stories written by people who last updated April 24th, 2006. Steadily each story, each post became more lost. Though we who were reading her journal knew nothing of what she was speaking of, the last post ranted desperately about someone who was coming back, she couldn't believe he was trying to find her, she'd started a new life, she was getting better, this was it, it was all falling apart.
On April 24th, 2006.
She had posted basically every day. Days and then months and then years went by with nothing, and what am I supposed to do?
That's just it- nothing. We don't know what happened. We know more then perhaps every one of her friends did, but we don't know. We weren't there. And that's the danger of all of this- we can know each other more completely then perhaps some of us let our 'RL' friends know us and still know nothing.
If the worst did happen, perhaps I even read about her death. Perhaps she was one of the murders that day that happened in Philly and I skimmed over her article in the paper. Perhaps she was a suicide that never went to print. Perhaps she was even a suicide bomber in a mall. I don't know.
Or perhaps whoever it was who came back got utterly told off by her for whatever evil he'd done and she, realizing how strong she was, decided she didn't need the theropy of spilling her secrets every day to livejournal. And she decided she didn't even need to say goodbye, because these people didn't really know her anyway.
And that's just it- we don't know each other. None of us. We simotaniously know everything and nothing about each other, and for all of you who know me you know I've basically logiced this to death and that I'll come to some weird conclusion, garunteed. What we share is an interrest- in writing, in anime, in CLAMP... do you know what that means?
Anyone ever been to comic con? Perhaps you saw me. I mean, seriously, maybe I was the Naruto that you got a picture with or the creepy old guy who dresses up as Fay every year. Man-Fay. Though I think he has his own livejournal, so never mind. But honestly- I saw awesome cosplayers- to those Americans, that might have been you. Maybe I have seen you guys and I have no idea.
Which is why, after all this strange reasoning, I have decided to put my picture up after I go to Otakon. Yep. Me dressed up as Fai. So it'll only kind of be a lie- it will be me, I'll just also be someone else. I mean, I'm not going to commit suicide, no matter what people say about others being sick I think it's pathetic whether it's a cry for attention or someone actually wants to die. I actually know that my 'RL' friends know me better then any of you do, no offense, so I'm not desperately antisocial. I just decided that I didn't want to be some faceless voice.
- Current Location:Philadelphia
- Current Mood: contemplative
- Current Music:Nobody Knows me at all by The Weepies