One day I sat trying to write a blog post, wondering why I bothered. Then I said to myself “John,” for my internal monologue refers to me in the third person in private, “I know you enjoy your relative anonymity, but hell and damn-wise, man, the world deserves to hear your inner-most thoughts. It’s a duty you have for the sake of our children.”
But is this really the case? Do I have a duty to share my inner-most thoughts with the world? Or should I presume that what I think has been thought before and that I should stop clogging up the internet?
I know what you, my avid reader, is thinking. You are thinking, “But John,” for your thoughts are all ways addressed to me, er, itself, in this manner…hang on….I’m confused now, ” We each have our own little world with it’s own little crises and victories. The texture of our being is woven incrementally and the result is utterly unique. That should be shared, yes, to enrich all that we are?”.
Being argumentatively and tautologically contrary I respond in kind. “But, dear reader, we are a bag of water and salts. We’re all the same. And we all experience ourselves in isolation. Sharing it is impossible. There are no words.”
There is a third person hiding behind a conveniently placed doubt. They say, “You are both wrong,” obviously referring to me and my internal monologue, “It is the act of sharing that enriches the individual. The people out there cannot judge, they can only consume the words, the essence. Or not. The consumption does not refer to the creation, It is not a feedback loop.”
Both I and my internal monologue shift uneasily at that point. The bastard behind the doubt has just effectively destroyed us by invalidating our actions. Another bloody feedback loop. We head for cover, spending the coming months in a cabin in Switzerland. To pass the time the internal monologue lets me blog.
The result is are what you see (if you exist). The most self-indulgent blog of my life. The result of boredom.