There’s something really quite strange about looking at your stats page and realising that someone, somehow, has stumbled upon your little piece of internet, your little corner in the cyberspace. Maybe they glanced at it and pressed the back button as quickly as possible. Maybe they read one post and forgot about it. Maybe they spent ages trawling through your past posts, the embarrassing, irksome and quite frankly self-gratifying first posts. It’s like they may have been perusing languidly through the pages of your mind and soul and then casually decided to go and look at Harry potter memes instead. and you didn’t even have to leave this page; don’t say I’m not good to you
It’s ever odder when you see that they’re from somewhere far away. America, say, or switzerland or Hungary. And it hits you, suddenly, that thousands of miles away, someone has this little doorway into a part of your life. You’re connected, however weakly and unimportantly, by streams of text and html, by a glaring computer blue-haze glow and the sound of music. It’s like suddenly the world is small enough to fit into your hands, and that to be with someone miles and miles away takes merely moments. It’s quite special and it’s quite weird. It leaves you feeling quite vulnerable, on show. Like this little thing that you thought was just yours is suddenly cast to the wind, a glass bottle in the sea. Anyone could catch that paper from the breeze, anyone could find that glistening glass poking up from the sand.
And it’s not exactly like there are many, many people, lathering this space with comments and adoration. (If you feel like doing that, by all means go ahead) But perhaps somehow that makes it catch me more off guard, more surprised when that occasional, once every week or so (or more than a week, errk) someone somewhere stumbles into your brain-portal and trips into the vortex.
It’s kind of full of wonderment and fear. Fantastic that it’s possible, but crazy.