Speaking My Mind: A Soliloquy of Sorts

I want write this like a soliloquy, like you are not here and are not reading this, but I know that it will be impossible because I care too much about my readers. I will try to be completely objective and omniscient of myself though, so that you, the nonexistent reader, will understand everything. The terrible error in doing this is that I will probably write at horrible length about myself. In any soliloquy though, that’s the point. I just wanted to make it clear so that I’m not mistaken for a self-centered narcissist before I even get into my real point which brings about another error that is made by my writing this in soliloquy-style – that I will write more personal things that I need to make known. I hope that writing those wont be a huge error for me, but I'm unsure. Know this: That I am very scared that reproach may come upon me for writing this. The backspace key is staring me down and most of me wants to smash it in until every bit of type goes away.

I like to write. I like to write crazy, illegibly, and with a great bit of mental absence. This piece, and the previous pieces should reflect that. The previous pieces were a little less directed, but this piece is intended to take some aim at a specific point. I hope to dilly-dally around that point until I have just expended and drawn out every ounce of information I have.

I wrote a several pieces recently that I collectively call the “Bios”. They’re about several different people, a dancer, a writer, a musician, and a student. They’re all true pieces about real people that I know. I don’t need to reiterate every point I made in those for you to understand the point of this, but I want to talk about one of them in particular. (Cue the dilly-dallying)

I wrote about the communication patterns I share with the Dancer, about how they were awkward and barely existent. I don’t think I told you the true reason why I couldn’t talk to her though. I gave the reasons that we were on separate rungs of the social ladder, and we hadn’t anything to talk about. I also said that I have an inferiority complex. Those are both true, I didn’t lie. I just neglected to tell the entire story. There’s two final reasons why I have trouble talking to her. I am afraid of her (not like a child that runs from the boogey man, and not like a prisoner thrown into the Minotaur’s pit), and I have feelings for her.* I didn't dilly-dally very much did I?*

Now to write more about myself. I don’t want a flood of rash messages in my inbox telling me I’m crazy for not saying anything to the girl, and I don’t want a flood of rash messages telling me how crazy I am for actually publishing this. I want to say that this piece is a terrible avoidance on my part. I can write embarrassing, personal things about myself all day long (for instance, I cry in sad movies, during sad songs, and most funerals). I can write paragraphs upon paragraphs of personal information. I may even get up the gumption every now and then to publish some of my personal writing. BUT! But, my chief problem in the matter is that I almost never, ever get up the gumption to say anything about it in person.* I feel as if my time on this is just a big waste of energy and willingness to expose myself. Take this bundle of grammatically incorrect, functionally unsound, and personally crazy piece of writing for what you want though. I just ask that you don’t bother me about it with deconstructive criticism. Please, if you cared enough to begin reading it, then you care enough to respect it and me for having the ability to overcome my fear and post it.

Thank you.


P.S. – Don’t be surprised if I take this down after only a few days. If you like it, save it to your computer because I can’t be trusted to leave things like this out in the open.

Footnotes

*(I think she's beautiful, and it seems like an awkward place but here in this footnote I must state my definition of beauty. Beauty is a collaboration of several criteria. Beauty is the once-in-a-lifetime miraculous moment when physical beauty, meets Christian beauty, meets talent, meets kindness. Though each of those elements may have different levels in different people, if each are present, the person can be considered beautiful.)


*(Upon writing this, I intended to do some dilly-dallying, but I never really did get around to it.)


*(My gumption is really strong today because it’s overpowering every ounce of the rest of my body telling me to hit the backspace key until this goes away.)