Yesterday I was google searching for something and came across a random blog in the searches and I clicked it and ended up immersing myself in that anonymous girl’s life. Its too complicated and exhausting (although I very much would like to) to narrate the entire saga over here but I ended up tracing her all the way to Friendster and Facebook just to verify my speculation that her long-distance relationship would be falling apart very soon.

Today it suddenly came to me to trace a cyber acquaintance’s footprints dating back to 4 years ago all over the net. It was easy to trace because when you use a fixed name all the time, you just insert the *fixed name* into any blog domains or social networking sites and you could get all that.

I do these all the time and in retrospect I find it quite a pathetic activity to undertake. I would be browsing through the archives, only getting there when the part of the person’s life is long dead and decomposed and harbours a distinct smell. Makes me some sort of a coroner, but I find that job tragic in a good way.

It reminds me of the scene in Donnie Darko where the guy sees his rabbit-devil hallucination in the mirror and tries to touch it but obviously he can’t. That’s what I’m doing, encroaching on the dead remains (They’re not only dead remains, but dead remains of the dead remains. The real dead remains have been shifted away to a morgue.) of people’s lives but never actually coming into contact with them. It amazes me and intrigues. Its like some sort of a novelty. I feel like a microsopic parasite latching onto their skin without them knowing.

But best not to have too many of my kind around. Stealth.

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