I remember when I first registered on Bluelight, lurking around in the New to XTC forums and Discussion. I knew very little then about the drugs I was taking, yet everyday of my life was lived in surreal happiness and belonging. I had lots of friends and a supporting community in which I could share banter and common interests. Life was good.
She had a way about her writing that I envied; something personable that I lacked. She knew how to grip people and twist their imagination into visualizing any experience that she was trying to relate. She impacted everyone that she addressed, and oft times, she addressed everyone.
I had never cared to vie for anyones attention online, but the sense of community that's unique to Bluelight immersed me longingly into this world. I was fascinated and intrigued.
It soon became obvious that I wasn't the only one, but everyone was singing praises and displaying their open admiration. Though I was deeply moved by her writings, I was also chagrined by this. In my mind, she was such a cliché. I felt like my favorite band just went mainstream. I began to write. Part of me knew that I was just trying to impress her, but I now had purpose. My goal was to show Bluelight what I could accomplish with words. I spent taxing amounts of time perfecting my character and approach. My arrogance was unparalelled. I took on everyone who showed an oz. of mettle in debate and made sure to come out at the top of every one. This was a fun game. I armed myself with a dictionary and my own aptitude, but still was disatisfied. I stared hard at the glaring words on my monitor, and that's exactly what looked back... Words.
Yes, I got people's attention, but not hers. If she noticed me, she didn't acknowledge the fact. Over time, she began to recede, to ebb back into the outskirts of the community and to find a post by her was a rare and gratifying occasion. I didn't address her directly, ever. I always took for granted that she would always be around. I mean, how could someone with so much to contribute leave us? It just didn't seem.. right.
I realized that she doesn't need to be profound and intricate. She speaks from the heart with no effort and somehow, that makes all the difference. I fear that I may never get a chance to meet her and tell her how grateful I am for helping me discover an important element of expression and giving me something to strive for in my early months here.
All I can say is...
Thank you, Ashke.
She had a way about her writing that I envied; something personable that I lacked. She knew how to grip people and twist their imagination into visualizing any experience that she was trying to relate. She impacted everyone that she addressed, and oft times, she addressed everyone.
I had never cared to vie for anyones attention online, but the sense of community that's unique to Bluelight immersed me longingly into this world. I was fascinated and intrigued.
It soon became obvious that I wasn't the only one, but everyone was singing praises and displaying their open admiration. Though I was deeply moved by her writings, I was also chagrined by this. In my mind, she was such a cliché. I felt like my favorite band just went mainstream. I began to write. Part of me knew that I was just trying to impress her, but I now had purpose. My goal was to show Bluelight what I could accomplish with words. I spent taxing amounts of time perfecting my character and approach. My arrogance was unparalelled. I took on everyone who showed an oz. of mettle in debate and made sure to come out at the top of every one. This was a fun game. I armed myself with a dictionary and my own aptitude, but still was disatisfied. I stared hard at the glaring words on my monitor, and that's exactly what looked back... Words.
Yes, I got people's attention, but not hers. If she noticed me, she didn't acknowledge the fact. Over time, she began to recede, to ebb back into the outskirts of the community and to find a post by her was a rare and gratifying occasion. I didn't address her directly, ever. I always took for granted that she would always be around. I mean, how could someone with so much to contribute leave us? It just didn't seem.. right.
I realized that she doesn't need to be profound and intricate. She speaks from the heart with no effort and somehow, that makes all the difference. I fear that I may never get a chance to meet her and tell her how grateful I am for helping me discover an important element of expression and giving me something to strive for in my early months here.
All I can say is...
Thank you, Ashke.
