I have always had a clever little intro on my facebook page. Firstly, I had ‘Yo soy un hombre pastores’… which means I am a shepherd man in spanish. Then when I realised nobody got the reference, ( basically a reference to Jesus) I changed it to, ‘I am not a number’ which is a reference to a sixties tv programme, the Prisoner, which is equally obscure to most people. I looked at it yesterday, when editing my biography on Facebook, and thought what a pretentious twit I was. So I changed it to ‘I am not important’. It was a statement of fact. Nothing clever, but an understanding which I felt was relevant for others to understand too. I didn’t realise it would be regarded as a cry for help…
Since then, I’ve been told I’m very important by my daughter, by my brother and others, and it made me feel sad that my actions had caused worry to others.
Thing is I actually felt it was an important revelation. I’ve always thought I’m special, that the narrative of my life would lead to me reaching an immortality of some sort, either literary, artistic or whatever… then yesterday I realised that none of these things were going to happen. I can’t write, I only have one story in my head, and its the one I can’t write… I have no imagination any more, and I’ve stopped painting, so that’s not going to do it. So, I thought the acceptance of the fact that I’m not important was a release… I don’t have to try and be special any more.
I feel my story has finished. My love has gone. I await the moment when I can join her.
I know I cannot hasten that moment, because to do so would cause too much pain to my family, so I’m prepared to wait patiently for that moment. I do not wish to leave my mark on this world any more. I wanted to change the world, one person at a time… but it is a fatuous idea. The world is beyond any rational argument. So I say ok, I give up.
Dale beloved of ‘m’