Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I do exist.

My life is boring. Lets face it. I do not have exciting exhibitions of courage and bravery to spill onto this webpage. There are no stories of love and loss that I can share. I am almost certain that 99% of the things that I say will be completely disregarded and forgotten.

And yet, here I am.... still writing.

I think even though there is nothing interesting about my life, I just want someone to care. There is an urge to have someone want to know every minute detail of my life. I want someone to care when I am sad. I want someone to feel sorry for me when a tragedy happens.

Is it not interesting to think about all the people I am willing to trust with this job. Creeps, perverts, friends, and foes can all access my inner thoughts, but I do not care if they are enemies, they care enough to hate me. Its not that I am a narcissistic freak, I simply just want someone to be effected by my existence. My biggest fear is becoming the blur name Whatshisname in everyone's memory. I do not want to be forgotten.

But once again, my life is boring. I have nice friends, good grades, a hobbie. I am a cliche'. Either way, if you are reading this, do not forget about me. Being forgotten is a bigger insult to life than suicide, than atheism, than rape. Being forgotten is like not existing.

I do exist.