Sometimes I want my privacy back.
I lay down in my bed for quite some time, the covers wrapped around me, searching every bit of my emotions for even a hint of regret. But there is none. I reflected on my life, as I always have, and my pragmatic self told me how many things I have done that I should have done differently, and how many things I am doing, that I should change immediately. Of course, my pragmatic self is only one tiny personality in the schizophrenic whole of Tiragem, and the Democratic Republic of Tiragem knows that she would not change a thing.
With that in mind, every good moment I’ve loved and every bad time I’ve despised, now manifest themselves as memories that I equally respect. And here I am, now, realising that this diary has almost always been a part of the process, only very briefly being the quasi-neutral record I wanted it to be. Although I think this might be what is best for me right now, I may realise later on that I was completely wrong. Fortunately, I suppose, it does not really matter whether this is good for me or not, because it “is”. This is what “is” in a life where I would change nothing. Something inevitable, something unchangeable is neither good nor bad. It simply is.
I do recognise, though, that perhaps in 20 years from now, I may truly regret the true role of my blog as I search the pages to reflect on every detail of my younger life only to realise so many details have been omitted. All because this is part of a process. But such is life. Such is the world. Nothing in this world, touched by human hands, can ever be a neutral observer. Wikipedia tries pretty hard though, and in my opinion gets it pretty right. Still, everything in this world is part of some process… some human-influenced orchestra.
Why should I be the only one without a symphony? I am not. It has always been play, but I suppose I’ve only now begun to hear it.
Big Brother is watching.