Offline
Offline: The word itself has no real meaning in legitimate English language. It's simply a compound word created to provide an opposite to Online, another word made again, only to contrast the former.
From a standpoint of my current life, I am offline. I sit here typing with no external connections in my computer other than my drain on an electrical grid. I am connected to my keyboard, and there it stops. I spend less and less time online out of setting and restraint, not out of choice. I feel like I am empty without someone to keep me company, or even to talk the weather to, but I sit here in a dark room all alone.
I am offline with humanity. I am no longer connected to the feelings of warmth and comfort that frequent people of my world. I am disconnected where no 'net' or collection of souls could comfort me. I feel as if I am a smaller part of a greater whole, one which I cannot be a part of.
If there is one thing I learned this weekend, it is that I am not happy now, I am content. I go from day to day, trying my best, hoping for better, and fearing worse. I can be quoted saying, "If this isn't good, I don't know what is," but it is fleeting, or fake. I can smile and be happy, but there is more, better, something to hope for. Isn't that worth fighting for?
I am empathetic for the coward, for I too wish to run away, dissapear, and only return when I have everything, but then why return. Why come back to contentment. I wish to run. To run till I can't see where I came from, and till I don't remember what I've come to be.
From a standpoint of my current life, I am offline. I sit here typing with no external connections in my computer other than my drain on an electrical grid. I am connected to my keyboard, and there it stops. I spend less and less time online out of setting and restraint, not out of choice. I feel like I am empty without someone to keep me company, or even to talk the weather to, but I sit here in a dark room all alone.
I am offline with humanity. I am no longer connected to the feelings of warmth and comfort that frequent people of my world. I am disconnected where no 'net' or collection of souls could comfort me. I feel as if I am a smaller part of a greater whole, one which I cannot be a part of.
If there is one thing I learned this weekend, it is that I am not happy now, I am content. I go from day to day, trying my best, hoping for better, and fearing worse. I can be quoted saying, "If this isn't good, I don't know what is," but it is fleeting, or fake. I can smile and be happy, but there is more, better, something to hope for. Isn't that worth fighting for?
I am empathetic for the coward, for I too wish to run away, dissapear, and only return when I have everything, but then why return. Why come back to contentment. I wish to run. To run till I can't see where I came from, and till I don't remember what I've come to be.