Taking Stock

Sometimes I think I need to remove myself from the whole situation and start again, recontextualise it. In one way I know who I'm writing this blog for. Amelie. She is my one true reader. You are my one true reader. Yet I leave it open, I pretend there are others, I try and leave it open so other people can feel included by the prose.

We talk on Facebook. We break the fourth wall. We talk about Idril and Anika like they are separate people. And they are. And I go behind Anika’s back and betray her story. That was the feeling I couldn't put my finger on last time when Amelie and I discussed this. What I feel when tell Anika’s story, as me, on Facebook giving hints and teasers about it. I feel like I'm not giving myself a chance to tell it as Anika. Like I am going behind her back and betraying her. This cardboard cut-out that she has become. I'm reinforcing that. I put her on hold.
I feel like I should talk about Idril. Not from the blog outwards, not to her, but about her. Tell her story as part of mine. It’s territory I don't have. The last freaky frontier. Well, that, video blogging and talking to Amelie on Skype. I feel like I should explain everything, I should be keeping track. Our story, I feel like there should be a record of the other side of things. Not just my responses to the comments. Though I guess I never felt like this when there were text based comments to deconstruct and reply to. She was somehow included.
It amazes me that someone could know me like this, read my diary and hear my thoughts, and still want to be my friend. I think that needs to be acknowledged.
Somehow.
One day.
With her consent and comments.

☆