6.17.2013

Skeletons

I've observed that what we say and what we write on our blogs don't correlate. A blog of our thoughts, I feel, is a true reflection of our inner most desires and secret wishes; the kind of things we don't really want to admit face to face. A blog of our 'lives' however is like a perfectly curated glimpse of our idealistic lifestyle.

We say we aren't looking for love. On our blog we write about finding the one, and vice versa. We say we aren't doing anything interesting this weekend. On our blogs/social media feeds, we post endless specially edited photos (complete with light leaks and overexposure) of our 'unique' findings - a well-composed window of what we saw/did/smell that day.

I guess what I'm trying to say is: when it comes emotions a blog is a great unemotional outlet to pour everything out. There is no need for your sympathy, for those forced looks of empathy, those insincere words of consolation, that unneeded drivel called advice. My computer just lets me whine and whine and whine all I want and in return he lets me publish it out to the world and I don't need to see anyone's face but the screen of words I've typed out myself. We juxtapose this 'weakness' by posting endless well-edited photos of what a great life we live when in reality we're just brain dead inside. You offer a glimpse of this brain dead-ness through your choice of literature. For me its: regency set heroines falling in distress at the hands of aristocratic heroes and succumbing to wanton destruction.

This just came about after reading a few classmate's blogs. Just saying.

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