I sat myself down and spared a few minutes (which stretched into a whole afternoon) thinking what is more important to us popularity or to be right? It is a thin line that divides the two and quite easy to cross that divide.
What is it that makes us not see the glaring difference between the truth and the fake. I remember the strained smile that hurts at the corner of my lips, the unwanted enthusiasm that left me tired the end of the meeting, that expression of joy that holds no meaning, a familiarity with people where nothing such exists. But no, I find it difficult to do that every time.
Does that get me anywhere? I am still trying to figure out. Does the blatant truth hurt my friend or will that fake assurance make me a better friend? Should I let the thought of losing a friend over power my sense of right and wrong or should I be the one to bring that friend closer to the reality?
Well the fact that I am not that popular either should tell me something.
I am told that it is the art of social networking. A kind of investment of time and energy to build an image that I myself don't identify. So I see two identical figures standing side by side looking at each other with an expression of uncertainty and fear. Is it the fear that we all share when it comes to encountering the truth about ourselves? What shall we see in the mirror? Not the me I am supposed to look at - but the me I have built myself into. I don't find the me in that reflection. I wonder, is that me?
No, I cannot bear the thought of looking at anybody else in my mirror!
What should I do? Should I laugh?
Is it the desperation to be seen and known by the seen and known so important in life? As Milton said: "They also serve, those who stand and wait."
What is it that stops humanity to serve as they stand and wait? I think.
The words 'happening', 'in', 'popularity index', 'famous'... crowd my thoughts. I try to search for the me in that. I look hard. I see a vague image, pushed by people... to become the truth. But the sight scares me. I run away.
What have I lost? Not much. Just a few passersby who did not mean much in my life... but they sure did try to be someone. And then where would I have been. Again the thought scares me.