The Internet has turned us all into sponges. We'll soak up all the information that we want. We're free to keep searching and discovering the things that please us. But what of the things that we fear? What of that which we disagree with? What of the new? There is so much new but it is also so easy to limit ourselves to what we like.
Some days the world would be better without it. Some days I just want to go back to connection without cables. What happened to that? I don't mean wireless Internet or mobile phones. I mean touching hands and grasping fingertips. What happened to the days where the only way to get to know someone was to be among that person? Now we can learn so much about a person just by following their digital trail. But how much do we really know? In this world of self-disclosure we can choose what the world sees of us.
I don't want to be locked inside my computer. I don't want to be tangled in wires and cables. And the irony is that I write this on a public journal for all to see. But I do not mind. I want to be found. Found doing something that matters. Found dancing among the storm that surrounds me. I won't ignore the rain nor pretend it's not there. I'll just teach it how to dance. I'll show the world romance. It's not found in pushing buttons. It's not found in hearing voices. It's found when the soul rejoices.
I want love to reign supreme. To see it flow far from this stream. To feel someone help me, I'm about to scream. I want a surprise. I want a dream.
But I don't want it on this screen. I don't want to hide this scene.
Still, somehow I'm entangled within an invisible seam. I'm the product of things I've seen. I'm a product of the generation of green screen. The world says no one will believe the things I have seen unless I give proof and explain what I mean.
But I don't need proof. Am I not the one living this life? There is something between my ears and I believe it is working. This life isn't mine though I live it. I don't often shake hands but I shiver. I live inside and I quiver. The world outside is intangibly mine. It's as if it whirls 'round and I can't make a sound. I keep my feet on the ground and am inevitably found as a spot on a sheet on a hospital bed.
So if you cannot read the thoughts in my head and if you've no choice but to hear them, I hope you'll heed well these words that I tell for I have nothing left but to say them. If life be a race, then I'm running with scissors. I can't tell where I'm going and too often I've missed her. So now live upside-down.