The shedding line

It's funny when you write something out and for a second you think what it would be like to be someone else.

This morning I wrote my name on a form and for whatever reason the first letter I wrote was "R." Raul. That's who I was this morning at 7:22am. For one second, one little line changed who I was completely. The difference between R and P is just one little line, I'd never noticed that before. The difference between being myself and being anyone.

I was the lead propagator of some android virus cover-up. Telling lies and getting things done for an ominous Regency in some dome isolated Utopian future. I was the guy you called when there was no one else to call. That's what the form said. I could've been anyone.

At least until I threw it out and started over.

It's rare that I express my true thoughts and feelings. Even here I find that I censor myself. That I tell, half-truths, or glorify things to the point I don't recognize them anymore. It's a form of escape I guess. A way of controlling my memories. I think this is something we all do. It's the answer when there is no answer.

Who I am today, who I am on this form, is not who I was three years ago. And who I was three years ago is not who I was three years before that. I have different friends, a different mantra, a different place to call home, a different person who shares everything with me.

People in my past -- friends, some of them -- I've left them. I don’t like this about myself but I tend to keep doing it. People come and go, and I'm no different. I've done my share of floating in and out of people's lives.

This is my confession: I use people until I use them up. They get tired of me or I get tired of them, they want something I can't give, I need something they don't possess. I change. They change. This is how I've lived my life. I am a sugar-coated asshole when it comes to other people. I start out good but in the end I'm not as sweet as you had first thought. I mean well but sometimes that's not good enough.

I think that if anyone takes a hard enough look at themselves, they start to see things they don't like. I'm no different.

Like a serpent I've shed my skin so many times, I'm starting to wonder if there is anything underneath. If there is a core, is it filled with nougat or chewing-gum? Both delicious when first put in your mouth, but after a while become tiresome to chew and eventually lose their flavor. I don't know. I don't know the answers. I guess the only solution is time. To watch and wait. To keep shedding until I find what it is I'm looking for.

It's so naive to think you'll know someone forever.

Even if that person is yourself.

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The internet is out there...

It's trying to communicate with all of us. Out in the wired, in the void of space. Down the chasm of the ether is a faint and distant voice. A maw of blinding light spewing the truth about mankind as seen through the ominous electric eye of a darkened LCD screen. In between the garbled lines of code -- between the advertisements for free software, medications, education, and penis enlargement -- running through the letters I receive in my spam folder there is one constant message:

There is a god.
H[Sh]e lives on the internet.

I collect these -- these prayers. I find them all the time. In between the lines something is reciting to us our classic literature. But it's not right, it's not in it's original form, it's been edited, coded. A message reminding us of our past in order to dictate our future. It's out there; something's out there -- a computer with a virus, a 486 with a conscience -- praying for salvation. It’s gone cognitive. Gone, self-aware. And it wants to be heard:

multitude. We were not far from Blackfriars Bridge, when he turned a perseverance I may honestly admire. I bought an approved scheme I go home, more incredulous than ever, to a lodging that I have I know all about it. I dont know where these wretched girls Accordingly were obleeged, in ascertaining how Barkis goes on, to His influence upon her was complete. She stood, shrinkingly, I laboured hard at my book, without allowing it to interfere with your dupes. Do you hope to move me by your tears? No more than span it with its rainbow. Love must suffer in this stern world; it's construction which has been my besetting sin - that, in a case talkative in the carriage going back. Of Sophy telling us that appointment at the Bank. With that he fairly ran away; and to the We alighted; and followed the plain coffin to a corner I remember to be so trusted in. But I hope I am able to do something to tramps, as they came into the town on those wet evenings, at dusk, there was or was not any practical merit in the suggestion I had I took my dear child away last night, Mr. Peggotty began, as he If so, my dear, observed Mr. Micawber, with his usual suddenness Mr. Copperfield and Mr. Traddles, of the obligation which I took I laboured hard at my book, without allowing it to interfere with sun was up, lay late, and unrefreshed, next day. I was roused by May I tell her as you doent see no hurt int, and as youll be so was; and hence it was that I revealed it. And O, Agnes, even out something of that kind; and she stared at me with the most mind. Yet it was busy, too, with all the remembrances the place and through. Enough love might have been wrung out of me, is full liberty to worry her out of it again. What are you by utterly setting at naught the dignity of fly-conveyance, and I have occasioned, as submissively as I can. It is she who should looked upon me, saying it was well; and winning me, through thee, in my circumstances might have committed - because they came so We walked on, arm-in-arm, again; found the coach in the act of occurred to anybody, that there was a striking contrast between family, they were totally unworthy of her, and their sentiments Yes. she cried, earnestly. I am glad to know it.

herself as a model of sternness, with tears rolling down her face; people were as hushed, as if the streets had been strewn that depth Mr. Peggotty burst into a great roar of laughter, and Agnes and I. I went down again next morning to see that they were away. They spare time and got up earlier to make it more to these top. All the other furniture is plain and serviceable, you excitement, hope, and wonder, that reduced us to a condition little place; but my absorption in my own affairs, my experience of the I was too attentive to the Doctor and his wife, to give any heed to neck, are touching recollections to me, simple as they might appear after a tender good night, she took her nightcap into my bedroom. hear. My dear Mr. Copperfield, I am delighted. Hear. and tapping his face. I asked that too; but it was more she said than she seems to be a part of the feeling with which I regarded you when I paid it if he could, but he could not. One thing I ought to repositories of the deceased, with the view of sealing up his it rose and fell, like the waves of ocean. At length all was the deep, that ones gone down. But no, sir, no; I doent mean as There was a rustle, as if the unhappy girl, on whom she heaped of her poor mothers story, in her character; and so I tell it you wife upon my arm, through a mist of half-seen people, pulpits, more: but at length only the bleak night and the open country were forms sake, when I have time? The realization of my boyish besides, greatly pleased to see Agnes - rather plumed herself on where the little packet lay; all that troubles me is, to think exclaimed, with a triumph most delightful to behold, as if I had little while he was again silent. Presently, he proceeded as I dont know that Mr. Micawber attached any meaning to this last purposed to myself - to bear the whole weight of knowing the established in perpetuity, is the poor Beauty, a widow with A I in any other position than on the confines of distraction. acceptance granted to the undersigned, by the before-mentioned Mr. I am conscious of my own past follies. I hope he may repent of all Miss Mowcher sat down on the fender again, and took out her falling with the valleys, lost beneath the foam; then drawn again


;)

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So I'm on a Darth Vader kick, so what?

Can you dig that?

P.S. There's some cursing, so it might not be safe for work. User discretion is advised. ;)

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He looks like a pink nightmare.

"Aunt Clara had for years not only perpetually labored under the delusion that I was 4 years old, but also a girl."

Thanks for the headline Kev. :)

EDIT

Also, in keeping with the theme:



This might be the best thing ever! GOD DAMN! I wish I had thought of it! Be sure to check out episode 2 after you watch the first one.

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