Dear diary,
I had a trigger. I know its a weird thing to upset me, it's not a big trigger, but it has upset my normal mood. I found out the 'real identity' inadvertently (on action of said individual) of a blogger that I really respect. It makes me feel weird. This blogger seems so respectable from a distance, as an anonymous person, as a distant ideal, seeing her as a real person makes me feel that she is a column above everyone, and reminds me of how she is a column, and I am the dust settling on the ground. I thought blogging was the one place where I can be myself, by depersonalising.
It's my issue, and nobody elses' but I'm reminded of the saying: never meet your heroes. I wonder if I'm (not by this pathetic monikker of conatus), anybody' hero. I've been heroic in the past. Talking about indignities, I'm not 'poor' enough to get certain NHS support for prescriptions. I'm poor enough for it to hurt, and for income to be a serious problem in my life, but not desperate enough for the state to help. No wonder there's a fucking demonstration everywhere around the world. If I weren't so encumbered by trying to sort it out, I'd be protesting too...
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