Tag Archives: self

Social Experiments

“I am my own social experiment.”

The words lingered in the space between mind and virtual existence, clinging to the form of identity and malleable intent, before dancing into the small text box on the glowing window that glimpsed into an alternate reality.

The sentinel blinked persistently, standing steadily next to the last mark, awaiting further instructions. None came.

To observe, to identify, to consume. Breathing in the essence and meaning of interaction. To wonder, to theorize, to consider every possible interpretation.

The balancing act of conscious and subconscious desire. The internal struggle to hide reality and emit something appropriate for public consumption.  The time honored battle between intense fear of betrayal and a profound desperation to be loved.

And so I watch.

I watch, I poke, I prod. I disappear. I become a fly on the wall. I stand in the spotlight. I hide in the shadows. I dance to see if others will dance. I lead to see if they will follow. I follow to see if they will lead.

Her thoughts floated into the air and journeyed to wherever such thoughts go once they have been released from captivity.

Suppressed self-expression scratching at solid walls of supposition and self-denied satisfaction. All for the dread of the unknown, the fear of failure, the horror of naked exposure, the terror that life may be entirely senseless.

Perception impregnates reality.


Good Intentions

“I meant to go grocery shopping today.”

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. If this was indeed true, she knew precisely where she was headed in this current trajectory.

She idly wondered whether one could find their way to heaven through bad intent.

It was curious to her that she could lay in the shivering cold, where hardly months before she had been dying to strip off every layer to rescue herself from the sweltering heat. The windows were fogged, and the sound of tires turning through shallow puddles on the ground crept in from the outside.

The world was quiet and dark. The fireplace no longer flickered, the flames had long died out and there were no longer dancing shadows on the walls. 

It was always in these moments that life seemed an overwhelming, daunting task.

Life was an experiment that had gone on altogether too long, without reasonable cause or direction, and the documentation of it was being entirely neglected in any meaningful way. The data was useless.

Faces, places, and time.

Conversations brought back to life by driving down the same streets, passing the same houses, seeing the ghosts of people that once meant everything to your self-centered world. Dwelling in the past, ever seeking the present, and fearing the future. 

Moments that only held meaning if you chose to let them. 

A future that you fear. Not for the danger that lies in the future, but for your ability to adapt to situations far outside yourself. Does it matter, then? Anything at all could happen, and somehow you will come out alive and well on the other side. Or dead, but in that case you wouldn’t be around to notice.

Do we seek the plot that finally makes us break? Do we long to know just what it is that we cannot adapt to? Or, perhaps these are only what a lunatic wonders.

If anything can happen and you can adapt for the better, then what importance can anything truly hold in the current moment? Fleeting emotions, obsessive attachments, transforming discoveries – all of these things could be taken away, twisted, manipulated or disfigured to a point of unrecognition at any moment. 

Yet, you will live on.

You will grow, and discover the infinite possibilities inside yourself regardless.

How many times can you begin something with the best of intentions, only for it to get drowned out in the noise before you realize that all it ever could be was simply the intention itself?

How many times can you watch your good intentions can be churned into the concrete that paves your life’s path, before you wonder whether intentions of any kind are worth having at all?

Meaning is perspective. Everything is temporary.


“I hate hair.”

This was the answer she gave again and again to the question that was asked all too often. The baited question, why did you really cut your hair so short?

If cutting her hair was to make a statement, she would have made the statement when she cut her hair. If it was to make an announcement, she would have made the announcement already, perhaps in association with her short hair. She really did hate hair, and that was all there was to her decision.

The baited question.

Always asked in secret. Where no one else would hear. Quietly, hoping that the secluded nature would bring out the truth. Digging to get to the bottom of whatever it was. No one else is here, you can tell me.

The coaxing and comforting of those with ulterior motives, trying to shine their light into what they secretly hoped was a dark corner. Something they hoped would allow them to be the hero of their own fantasy. The masturbatory need to discover something hidden and dirty, then clean it for all to see.

No one will know.

What Shapes You

“I literally have no idea who I am right now.”

The unrefined string of words seemed pathetically lacking once strewn haphazardly onto the table. It felt tasteless, void of the impact they truly held; the meaning utterly lost in translation.

She doubted her companions were chewing over the thought as much as she did. Their compassionate reassurances were received thankfully, yet she doubted how comprehensively they understood her deeper meaning.

Suddenly you are standing alone, fully alone, to deal with the consequences. Not only of what Life itself has brought you, but to stand atop the apex of your choices. Who are you?

This full realization of your bullheaded leadership and principled decision-making has brought you into the light, naked and utterly left to your own devices. You are brought to your knees. The weight comes and goes.

You have nothing beyond your convictions.

Do you spend time based on who you are, or does the way you spend your time shape you?

Are you the sum of your experiences, or are you the potential of experiences yet to come? Further yet, are you the sum of all your experiences past and future combined into one now?

If you would never have done something yesterday that you will do today, does that change who you will be tomorrow? Were you not in fact the same person, only under the misconstrued notion that you would never have done such a thing?

At times we live our entire lives under the illusion of self, only to lose the very foundation on which we had built such a self. Who are you, truly, without the foundation of another Self to build upon?

It is as if someone has suddenly turned on a very bright light and you are afraid of what you will see when your eyes adjust.