It’s there anywhere and everywhere, those cameras. Those people who watch, who observe your
every move: both elegant and embarrassing; who listen to everything you utter
sitting behind the wall or as an invisible face behind your table, are lurking
around everywhere. They talk, they report, they create an image of you which
will be imprinted in their memories forever until they really take time out of their precious life to get to know you or until
you move to a completely new set of place with a minute difference of different brands of
cameras.
Where curtsy has to be imbibed into every cell of your body
for the survival requirements even if it seems unreal and is repelled by every
atom of your body.
Why? To preserve an image.
Where the definition of you which is
forever incomplete has to be masked using a poker face and swallowed in. Where a smile has to be forced out.
Why? To preserve an image.
Where you have to prove you are right by manipulating if
required when you are on the verge to be proven wrong. Because the image has to be superior.
Because it is your image.
All this, only if you really care and obsesses
about written off permanently in pages. And if you want to be as great and famous as Shakespeare.
Where you have to do things against your will because you
will be judged into a permanent identity of immortality. Because you feel you
are being watched.
Because you are being watched, with those invisible cameras.
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Labels: Immortality, Metaphor, Perfectionism, Philosophy, Poda Land, Rant, Reality, Sarcasm, True Story