Once upon a time, there lived a young woman, who felt less real with each passing day.
I started this blog as a means of creative expression and the realization that too many thoughts intertwine amongst themselves and form an existential knot if kept in the mind along with the hormones and blood and cerebrospinal fluid swimming across it. I had to give my mind a digital identity which is ironical because a digital identity is so much more in demand than a real identity.
I admit it to myself, which is often the most difficult thing to do, that I’m going through an identity crisis.
I feel very hollow. Stuck. That constant nagging at the back of my mind that something is terribly wrong although everything on the outside is seemingly alright. Ordinary. I don’t feel alive. Why? I’m not dead. But, I’m not thrilled to be alive. I can’t foolishly subscribe to optimism and ‘positivity’, the dubious concepts of which are selling like hot cakes in the 21st century. I question everything. I’m tired of questioning everything. I’m tired of being the only one who can answer. I’m tired of not answering.
Ours is a difficult time to live in. Anxiety is just a click away. Insecurities are just a click away. Before I respond to tragedy I’ve learnt how one should respond to tragedy. Before I discover what is fun for me, I am taught what ‘fun’ is supposed to be. When are we really ourselves? How silly is the trend to ‘be yourself’ when all we’re made up of are picture-perfect filters and virtual likes? When all I can think of right now is how many followers would I attract and how many responses would validate me? Perhaps Digitalization is the next big shift after Urbanization. Having a solid digital identity is so much more rewarding than being the same in person. Won’t you agree?
The only difference I’m making this time, is to not bother about sounding intelligent. That’s a digital farce. I can’t be intelligent all the time. I don’t enjoy sounding intelligent all the time. I am being honest to my gut, raw and open, as you literally read my mind. I’m letting you crawl inside my skin, underneath the delusions of who I should potray myself as. I’m out of my mind, you’d think!
But, I’m not sure I’d care.