I've Been Roaming for Eternity · 3:18am Mar 4th, 2013
Holy Hiatus.
I've been exceedingly busy as of late, due to school, life, and just about every other thing that the universe wishes to throw at me. I think at this point it's just throwing furniture because it can.
But, that's besides the point.
I haven't been updating any of my stories just because I do not have the time. Literally. I'm practically crawling into my bed every night at 1:00 A.M. because I'm having issues keeping up with everything.
So, I believe I might hit this dead period come the passing of the infamous SAT's. This means I might be able to knock out a chapter for Mind and Magic or Mischief and Ponies. Although, this is not a promise, rather a proposal.
On a related note to SAT's, I recently wrote a practice essay for one. Here it is below, with essay prompt and essay itself. I took a... cynical approach to it. It did adhere to the guidelines of a 25 minute time limit, and managed to score the 12/12 that people drool over. I'd say it's worth a read. I'm certainly happy with it.
Should people make more of an effort to keep some things private? Plan and write an essay in which you develop your point of view on this issue. Support your position
with reasoning and examples taken from your reading, studies, experience, or observations.If knowledge is power, then acquiring more knowledge related to your friends and peers is detrimental to the foundation in which they are tied to you. When someone makes a friend through similarities in likes or dislikes, favoritism forms a boundary when one friend learns too much of the other. The delicate balance of knowledge and ignorance to retain such a friendship is shattered like a rock through a window pane as one friend learns too much about the other.
I have been acquainted with an obscene variety of people from all walks of life. From the basement potheads to the mentally-unstable personas, knowing too much about their personal lives has lead me to absconding from a friendship forged in flames, extinguished by the knowledge of their innermost secrets. I currently am in tow with a highly intelligent individual, whose actions speak louder than his words. He's quite the figure when you first meet him, charming, witty, and overall, a nice person. But, as of late, his variety of flaws in his crystalline likings of a personality have shone through. I recently discovered he too was a pothead.
I had little to no knowledge of this event, for I am an introvert and prefer to keep to myself. How I had excavated this fossil that was his personal life was by sheer coincidence. Gossip was what did him in. We are currently friends, though I have gone to great lengths to force him to leave this ridiculous activity behind and roam on to greater pursuits.
The diatribe that dictates my morals is unaffiliated by his actions, but my pride in the person I once knew is extinguished from the inferno it once was. I myself have a variety of personal feelings, some of which would bring about ruin to myself and those around me. The overweening sense of anxiety that dictates my daily life takes a toll on my mind and creativity. Why should I care so much of what others think of me? I've journeyed through endless deserts of emotion and speculations on whether I should be a recluse in who I portray as "me." If I were to reveal the "true me," the outlandish amount of guilt would drive me to suicide.
To keep our private lives private is what makes us who we are. We come across as something desirable to one another because we do so. As if the shackles that bound us to a cage to keep us from slicing ourselves to ribbons with the knife in the corner were the only entity keeping us safe, we are a social people.
Paparazzi, the dreaded phantom that roams the streets, seeking to haunt and act as a detriment to a celebrity's life. They are a shallow people. No matter what great lengths a celebrity may go through to prevent their personal lives from escaping to the public, their secrets are ripped from them anyways. The ghost has taken what they value, their humanity let you will. With pomp and circumstance we try to smother the "me" in ourselves, but it is better that way. If everyone knew of everyone, whose to say we won't all be reclusive?
Knowing what Sam did to that lady on the street the other day, or knowing how Julia is the slut of the highschool, that is nothing more than torture upon our conscience. Our secrets are something to fight for, things to abhor when they reel their ugly face in the ones we care about. To keep a secret is nothing less than to be ourselves. It is better to know a gilded persona than have them melt into the beast they are. We lock the beast in the cage. No matter the yelling, the bloodcurdling screams that erupt from the interior, we leave it be. We let the beast manifest into a festering wound that pulsates whenever we touch it. We leave it be until someone releases the lock bounding the beast to the cage. We, ourselves are destroyed by what is within when released. We hide ourselves to appease to others. We are shallow. We are hollow. Instead of taking what we will, we should take a laissez-faire approach to discovering what we will about others, for we cannot handle the truth.
