arent we all blind sometimes?
13.12.2004 ~ 5:14 pm

Yesterday was like this:

You are the first person narrator of a book. In real time, of course.* You've been telling this story for a while now, and it's going well enough. You think you know the ending�after all, there aren't that many pages left. Then the other characters reveal their secret. Well, that changes everything, doesn't it? And you realise that everything had been because of it and leading towards it and you want to go back and pick up the hints, one by one. There were so many.

You feel relieved. You knew, of course. You had seen it, and you can point out the exact lines where you wrote about it. But you waived the casual observing rights in those early chapters when you entered the story. Second guessing yourself is unhealthy and you did it, knowing full well. Finally you are validated. Aren't you glad?

You feel betrayed. Like a second choice. The book is your story, but The Story began before the dedication. You were so wrong for dismissing it as trashy preteen drama. Perhaps it was about circumstances and mistiming. Stars crossing�that would make the first story better than the second.

Couldn't they have told you sooner? You behaved stupidly because you didn't know. Had you known, you would have left. Aren't you glad that you stayed?

You are still protagonist.


*Where's the fun in knowing how it will end?

<< You can never be too cryptic. >>

th since 5th october 2001