(no HSM soundtrack, I beg of you.)
Wistful.
I wonder how much people know I ever existed. Sounds like I need attention? I find so, too.
People that would know I existed would probably be under 50. Or 100 the least.
I'm not much of social butterfly, I admit.
I'm fine talking with people. It is always pleasant to.
But I prefer not to.
Does that sound rude? It makes sense in my head.
But how did I get to suddenly question if my existence is meaningful is like this :
Well, firstly, I got a little annoyed how much 'I' is used in blogs. Is there really no one else to talk about?
"I went to watch a movie with my friends. I had super loads of fun. I got some new shoes too. Vivaldi's."
Fascinating.
Well, I do not like to see such a solitude figure all alone in a paragraph. Look.
"I"
It looks sad isn't it? :(
So for this article, let me indulge in using a second-person view. Let's say 'I' is a 'she'. Thank you. She is ever so grateful.
One night, not that starry and not that rainy, she was idling with a phone and listened to a song.
"I crashed up joints in Tokyo. And I may not be loved but they always recall my name."
- Pete Wentz Is The Only Reason We're Famous, Cobra Starship
Got her thinking: do people that she knew would forget that she, being so quiet and insignificant, exist?
(Yes, I think Ash is the only one person in KK who could get philosophical when hearing to techno-rock.)
In answering the question. She thinks people would.
Sounds mournful to her always bright mood (I mean, what is this? Pessimisticallyash?).
But sometimes you can't have too much of a high hope for the future.
And mulling about it several times, she does feel sad and dissapointed to think that some of her friends might forget about her in a few short years' time and the next class reunion would be weirdly awkward and make her unsettle in her seat, wondering if it is alright to head back home early.
But perhaps that is the test of friendship:
It doesn't really matter who forgets you; it's the one who remembers you that does.
So she wonders who will.
Back to the selfish "I" once more, I guess I just have a social insecurity problem I need to face (like all teenagers do. Looks like I really am one of the club.) In conclusion, I suppose I would recite a line from the song not-so-aptly named, Kick Ass performed by the ever flamboyant (yet brilliantly-minded) Mika, "We're not cool, we are free."
I am sure as a gun that I am not cool.
But I like to think that I am free :)
