My personal testimony to life is that man exists for the world. We seek approval from others, let's face it. Whether "others" pertain to our bosses at work, or spouses, kids, parents, friends, colleagues, even strangers, there is no denying that our very identity is spelled by the public ID these "others" have typecast us into. We are stereotypes of the mold which "the world" has created for us to fit into. My mold is a little less complicated than the others'. It is very easy to read and duplicate.
I am a teacher. My life is limited inside the confines of the classroom. The air I breathe is the stinging cold of the air-conditioning and chalk powder, which at the latter part of my life, will eventually clog my pulmonary arteries.
The beauty to anonymity is that the pressure of living-up to the standards is lessened. One could easily deviate from all known forms of conformity and no one would take notice because his actions, like him, are just going to become part of the blurry backdrop. Nobody will squirm at the lousy pair of jeans he'll decide to wear on wash days. Nobody would take notice of the choices of food he'll be forcing down his throat. Nobody, not even those pesky mall credit card marketers, will pay him attention. Nobody.
Anonymity is God's gift to the mediocre. We don't get blamed for saying something blasphemous just because we own a TV network. Our words and actions, or any compromising or embarrassing predicament we find ourselves in, no matter how offensive, won't be blown out of proportions. Our twitter accounts won't be followed. Nobody would read our blogs.
So why then am I writing in the second-person point-of-view as if I am certain than someone is actually reading? I don't know. Maybe I'm hoping against hope that at any given rate, somebody would mistakenly come across this and find himself/herself seeing the world in my perspective. Who knows?
