I write because I am bored. Because an idea strikes my fancy and I decide to continue onto it. I write because I am depressed. I write because I am happy. In the years of me blogging, starting with that weird proto-blogging culture that was livejournal, to rambling threads such as these on various forums, to my wordpress site, A Journey Through Life, I put down my fears, my triumphs, my insecurities, and my strenghts on digital ink through keyboard and mouse.
Facebook isn’t the place for that, but it comes in handy at times. I orignally wrote something as I started to spiral, only to be confronted by a friend who barely talks to me. It’s a reminder that some friends are temporary, and if I lose them, it isn’t the end of the world. So maybe I’m becoming a pariah. I know the words I type down are no more important that those written by others, and are of lesser value than some folks even on here on Iwoto. I guess this is a true ramble from me.
A bout of depression that strikes often to the point many just see it as normal. They see it as “Lorenzo’s whining again” and leave it as be, or drop me. The second bit just adds I think, and it took me awhile to get over a purple texted announcement saying that a certain supreme flagship has been removed from my friendslist. Indicating the supreme flagship has blocked me.
I mean, no offense to Sarah Hoyt, vulture of critique, medieval otaku, or ex-army, they’re terrific bloggers, with a breadth of knowledge, mastery of language, and availability of images to convey their thoughts, I am a simplistic wad in all of this. Nor am I Prof. Reynolds, or Prof. Jacobson or even Miguel or Larry Correia in my political activism and firearms knowledge. I write because it brings me pleasure, or in this case, a bit of a closure.
So I was on track again for that, when two people stopped me. One left me a comment that left me in tears, the other started to talk to me. So to end this rambling, I guess I’ll put up Mr Rigby’s quote. It’ll apply to anyone anyways, anyone who has had doubts on where loyalties lie.
The fickle whims of those who only know a person through the aether is not the judgments one should value. For those in the aether most often do not truly see another person, but an abstract concept, easily left behind when they no longer find them easy to deal with. It is imperative to find the few who do recognize another as a person, and to not build our personal value and self worth from the ephemeral world of the aether. It is not oneself who is valueless in the aether, but all, for that place, despite the emotions being real, is naught but smoke and mirrors, a place of illusions and of figments. Few are those who place their true face into this land, most only seek self satisfaction, and when one no longer provides it, they turn on them. Do not worry, for there are those who value you, do not despair, for there are some who care not about the games, but do quietly listen and watch for the person you are.