Untitled Document II
The second untitled document.
Is this a series? The untitled docs series?
I make myself write at least three paragraphs a day from the hip. I then take those bad boys and upload them as untitled docs into my blog. I haven’t written consistently in ages. Probably years. I’d have to look back amongst the cobwebs and dust to find a time where I wrote consistently. Where I shared consistently. Maybe I need to create a series to drive myself to write. Drive myself to share. Fake community. Fake sharing in a community. Whatever. It’s mine. My piece of the internet. Full to the brim with me. Years worth.
Winter is a perfect season for writing. Staying inside where the electricity hums and the heat is plentiful. Looking at nature from the coziness of the inside. I sleep. A lot. I sleep a lot in general, but come winter when the dark hits right after I get off of work I find slumber comes even easier than normal. It’s whatever. I feel I cannot help the slumber that comes so naturally. Maybe it’s a symptom of depression. Maybe. But I’m tired, and closing my eyes, and finding slumber soothes me. My deepest form of meditation except my mind is going wild - so a strange trippy form of meditation. (Guess that subconscious don’t ever fucking shut up.) But this winter along with sleeping I could write. And share. I think that’s a key here. To share.
I don’t know why I need to share - why I come before the orange painted door. Maybe it’s because I don’t really participate in the community in any other way, except with my work comrades, and, well, that’s it. Besides work comrades (which are the most solid comrades and community a human could ask for) I don’t really have any other outliers. Therefore, putting myself out there on the internet makes me feel connected to community. Putting my few paragraphs for the world to digest out there makes me feel connected in some way. Maybe I do need connection? Maybe I do need community? Usually I’m a loner of sorts. Stick to myself kinda kid. Solo. So when it comes to connection I don’t know what it means to need connection. I don’t know what it means to connect. Maybe it is because I don’t feel connected when amongst a group of people usually. Usually I feel alienated. And then feel like I don’t care - a defense mechanism. If I don’t care I can’t get close and they can’t hurt me. Not that I’ve been hurt before. It’s just my mind is set up to automatically assume the worst, which is that all these humans will eventually hurt me. Guess this would be a scab I shouldn’t pick, a dark thought I don’t need to give into. But I do. I will assume the worst of you - that you are going to come after me in a way. Eventually. So… maybe putting myself on the internet out here is my way of faux community. There is community, but really is there? No. But it feels like it a little bit. Giving me that faux community feelin. Fixin somethin inside me. Somewhere.
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