Published on 12, July, 2020
This isn’t a criticism, just an observation. In fact my heart goes out to those prone to doing it as they seem to be experiencing a particular form of autistic ‘blind-spot’ that may leave them feeling isolated and unheard when really they’ve just been shouting into the dark without realising.
The phenomenon in question: basically someone newish to the forum sensibly browses for threads on topic x rather than start a totally new thread. But as they read through, they hone in on one point made by one user and reply to it, asking a question of them perhaps. In many cases, that user has not been around for quite a while, but the new person seems unaware of this statistical likelihood and Unless one of us points it out they are left like a tree falling in the forest. One of us will maybe spot their comment and help them out by pointing out that no response will ever come. But other times we might just be confused why an old thread has bobbed up to the surface and can’t see the recent comment buried among the old ones.
I have not practical advice to offer. It just makes me feel a bit wistful and sad for the person with that vulnerability to not factoring in the passage of time. Does anyone get that poignant feeling about it all? It makes me sad. Not just for the ‘ignored’ person but for the many lost ‘ghosts’ who we may one day be sooner than we intended. I miss everyone in advance, all the time. And complacency in this place will never take hold as departures of both kinds recently, (as well as more mayfly forum existences) will not be the last. I like and appreciate everyone who’s here, even if they’re just quietly sitting ‘at the back’ - all losses are felt keenly. Best wishes to all.
Yes. I've noticed it as well, but until they say more, I don't know what to tell them, I'm not a person doing ''Hello''s.
But I know how it feels to reach out and finding nobody there to give you a hand, or to see it happen to another.
I titled it ''Awful truth'':
Botomless sadness drowns me today
To see my mirror image strangled
In his unwilingness to give up
to his last breath trying futily reach out
His calls for help returned like an echo
words sharp as razor cuting my heart open
bleeding out knowing the awful truth
neither his nor mine are to be answered
Wow. That’s powerful. You have a real gift for poetry!
Thank you. I can't do it. I'm not in control when it happens. It just happens, when it's impossible to contain my feelings
Maybe. Maybe my brain (like StarTrek's Vulcans) switches between logical and emotional states. But being in the emotional one isn't fun, if I'm crazy now, multiply it thousand times, like a fully fledged lunatic fresh out of asylum.
Have you ever seen pictures of artists of old? They all look a bit disheveled, eyes shinning mad, so I reckon they felt like they looked or more, in order to create.
That is a gift, in my opinion.