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.