[f]or this is not my world

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Wednesday, July 17th, XXXX ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀08:32

United States of America

NXX XXXX

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It used to be that I had to write every few minutes. I was like one of those Twitter addicts who constantly needed to let the world know what they were doing. I had to pull out my phone and open my calendar, and quickly describe what I was doing, and placed the exact time I started down. Then, when I was at home, I would get my notebook, and record every one of those events and times down.

My counselor asks why I didn’t use Twitter as an outlet instead of using my notebook. If my goal was to “let the world know”, then what better method than social media, right?

Wrong. I’m a private person by nature. I have social media. But even I have limits. I’m not willing to share every time I went to the store and every time I had to go to the doctor’s and every single time I observed something wrong about our culture. I was going to share that with myself. With the world.

What world am I talking about? I live in one, you want to point out.

But I’m not talking about this world, our current world.

I know you’re probably dialing 911 or Googling for the nearest mental asylum. But don’t worry. I’m not actually crazy. Everyone thinks I am. But I’m very much in the real world. I’m not talking about some fairy realm or underground village or a castle hidden by magic or something like that.

I’m talking about our world, our culture, our society in a different time. In the future? Maybe. But do you know, tomorrow is considered the future, too? But this is not the world I want to be discovered in. I don’t want the shallow, hurtful, shameless, selfish, narcissistic, or the just plain stupid people in today’s world to find me.

They won’t understand.

They never do.

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