As I write this, my friends surround me, or at least, people I'm forced to call friends. Our dumpy little house seems to have gotten dumpier over time though it's really just filled with writer's block trash and the bones of dead characters long forgotten. The others, save for a couple of them, are all just characters. I'm more than that. I'm more than just a character inside her head.
Yeah I know, that sounds stupid, but it's not as stupid as some things in this world. Being called a character implies that you're not real, that you're made up or the product of someone's imagination. I may have started that way but I've grown way past that. I'm more than just a character, but not quite a real person. I've grown as a personality over the years I've been alive, and doesn't that count for some sort of humanity? I've experienced life and seen how the world works. I can make choices based on judgements. My judgements are different than my host's judgements. Yet, I'm not fully human yet, and I have accepted that I never will be. For one thing, I don't really have a body. I have the body her imagination gave me, but not flesh and bone a real human would have.
And really, I'm content to be in this more-than-a-character-but-not-quite-a-real-person mess. I'm as real as I'm going to get and I've realized that. Honestly, I'd like to make friends outside this dump but I can't. I don't even know how it would work.
This place isn't a dump because our host intended it to be dumpy. It's a dump because she's filled it with stupid ideas. It started out as a cozy hostel of sorts, but then it turned into a broken down boarding house as stupid characters and idiotic plot lines started moving in.
I think my least favorite was Erin. She was a good character at first; Erin was sweet and had this housewife sort of appeal like Ann Romney, but had the strength and tact of Michelle Obama. But then she degraded into a pile of character background bones. She stopped caring about anything but her depressing plot lines, and then when the host decided to give her a miscarriage plot twist, Erin essentially became lifeless and died over time in her bedroom. The bones remind us that she existed, that she had a story, that at some point she had been alive, but since then she's just become a pile of bones that no one has bothered to pick up since.
It seems like since these useless plots and characters have been dying, we've just been expanding the hostel rather than cleaning up the messes. I don't know why no one bothers to clean up around here. I have tried to clean things out, but it seems like our host is more of a hoarder of memories and ideas than anything else. I want to move the mess around, at least to contain it in an area and call that the graveyard or something, but the host won't even let us do that. It seems that the “developed characters and personalities” section has become mostly myself, a couple others, and then rows and rows of dead character bones that were once potential personalities. It's as though she put them there as a hope that they would grow and flourish among us, but obviously their fates weren't as great.
We'll see how this all goes. Maybe one day I'll be able to finally clean up. Maybe I'll get the chance, but for now, I wait.