Friday 11 November 2011

Folie à deuxmund

I am not dotmund. Obviously, posting this as dotmund on a blog called "dotmund" doesn't help my cause. Perhaps you found this post by clicking a link posted by dotmund on Twitter. Or via my profile on or on Flickr (both dotmund, in case you'd not guessed by now). But still. Dotmund is not me, either. Not all of me. I don't think so, anyway.

Which isn't to say I wouldn't like to be dotmund. A lot of people like him. He's a bit of a character. Sometimes he says funny things, interesting things. Sometimes he says provocative things, or draws a picture that people enjoy. Dotmund very much exists, but I am not him.

I wish I knew who I was. I don't really understand people, you see. I feel very alone and alienated when I'm around them. But I am quite intelligent, so I've grown adept at blending in. I can talk to people on more or less any subject in more or less any situation. My ability to bluff my way through being a human is a necessity for me, as my greatest fear is being found out.

I suppose dotmund came in as a sort of caricatured version of bits of me I thought would appeal to people. But he's not really me. That is to say, he is but he shouldn't be everything I am. There is a symbiosis in our relationship, of course. Neither of us could exist without the other. Increasingly, however, I worry that my role in this has come down to the bare essentials - breathing, eating, keeping everything in order until the next time dotmund is required - because that's the person people want to see. When I die, I suspect dotmund will be the name on my tombstone. I can't blame anyone for that. But he's not me. I hope he's not me. Or rather, I hope the bits of me he is aren't all there is.

I don't even know who I am any more. Like, I wouldn't even know how to introduce myself to someone. I have so many names these days. Like a well-loved pet. Maybe that's what I am. What I do know is that as soon as someone says "you may know him as dotmund" eyes light up and I get to play at being dotmund for a while.

But I'm not him. I kind of wish I could remember who I really am. But at the same time I'm scared to in case I find that there's nothing there any more.


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