Let's Get Deep Here... and Then Break the Heck Out of Jail

So I was on YouTube today.

I'm on YouTube most days, actually. As I've said before, I watch way too many YouTube videos to be healthy. But I do it anyway.

A friend sent me a recommendation to watch one of Markiplier's videos, where he played a game called "Presentable Liberty," with the note that it was mind-bending. I thought, hey, I love to get my mind bent, let's go check it out.

I have to say, it really was mind-bending. But for me, it was mind-bending for a different reason than most people have.

Here's the basic storyline of the game: You wake up one morning in a cell. Presumably, you've been living in this cell for at least a little while, because after a few minutes of pacing the tiny room you start to get mail from a few "friends." Through these letters, you learn that there is a virus that has been going around for a few days, one which very quickly consumes the city. Soon you learn through more letters that one of your friends is on an adventure, and will soon be returning home... to a town he has no idea is infected with such a virus. One of your friends sends you letters from her hiding place, and you watch her slowly lose hope of survival... with no way to even assure her that you exist. But then, you begin to wonder, does she exist? How do you know that she does? Do you exist? Does this cell you're living in exist? Soon, she ceases her notes entirely, having completely given up on making it through such a confusing world. The journeying friend sends you some confused letters once he gets home, and informs you that he's going to get you out of your cell so you can explain just what the heck is going on here. It's all fine and dandy, and he gets the power cut out so you can escape... and then you get no more mail from him. Instead you get letters from your "administrator" claiming that he sacrificed his own life to get you free... That he died not knowing if you were even in the jail, or if you got his letters, or that you were even still alive. Then the letter goes on to claim that you can't escape. But you open the door easily, and step out to find a hallway that leads nowhere and a broken button on the floor. Eventually you wander back to your cell, where you find a couple wires next to the door. You wire the buttons in, and press the down button just for the heck of it.... Guess what. Your cell is an elevator. Your cell is an elevator. And then you step out of the room you spent so long in, with no contact to the outside world...

You step out into a world where you are the only survivor.

You made connections with people, learned their lives, followed them to their deaths. Or did you? After all, it was just a series of letters shoved under the door. Were they real people, or was someone messing with you, or did you imagine the whole thing? Who can say? This was a game that made Markiplier pause in his gameplay to question whether or not he was actually sitting in that room playing that game. I gotta say, when you interact with something virtual that makes you question the real world, someone's doing something right. Very, very, right.

I took some time to shed light on this because the feeling felt vaguely familiar. And not just because I tend to get random episodes where I stare into space and literally feel like I stop existing for a couple minutes. (I'm special that way.) This feeling was different from that, yet still oddly familiar: Questioning whether or not the people you're putting trust in actually exist.

And then it hit me: I get that feeling every time I think about my blog.

I'm very self-conscious, and spend so much time analyzing things, questioning them, trying to make the facts line up, make the world as perfect as I can. And I can attest to this: My blog is anything but perfect. Full of typos, scrapped stories, and empty promises. But I have a life outside of this blog. The life of a wandering, confused sixteen-year old who still has to go to school, maintain relations with her friends, and just live life outside of the internet sometimes.

Every time I post something, I wonder if anyone is out there at all. I sit there contemplating if there really is someone reading my blog, and I wonder what kind of person they are, and if they'd show my blog to their friends, and if they'd show their blog to their friends, and so on. I wonder what you think when you read my stuff. Do the people who read this think it's too cliche? Do they find it hilarious proof I'm just an amateur writer who's never taken any creative writing classes? Do they look at it and think that it's a cool story? Is it creative? Are my jokes actually funny? What kind of stuff does this person like? I'd be willing to write them something special, if only they spoke up to answer one of the billions of questions that rise into my head every time I think about one of my fans. How do you measure fans when they don't prove that they were here at all? Sure, there's view count, but is it really an accurate representation of my fans? Do I have more fans than views? Less?

How can I know anything about you if I don't get your feedback?

I feel like the journeying friend, out for an adventure, only to come home to a completely different world than the one I left; my only friend unresponsive, no proof that anyone can hear me in such a vastly empty place.

Sigh.

I know I'm not the only one that gets this; in fact, I'm pretty sure every blogger, YouTuber, artist, and writer has felt the same way. I just felt the need to call it out. By for some reason talking about a video game.

Anyway.

Please send me your ideas, feelings, hate mail, whatever. I check my mail three times a day, and am always thrilled when I get a message.

Or, at least, I would be, if someone would send me one.

I would be so much more inclined to keep writing if I knew someone was out there listening. Just saying. I've gotten about... three views... in the past week. I'm trying, I really am. But it's hard to free someone from the jailhouse when you don't know what cell they live in.

I need something to work with, here. Tell me what you think about my writing, how it makes you feel, the vibes you get, whether or not you like it. Tell me why my writing presents itself this way. Tangible feedback is always the best. "It's good" just isn't good enough. If there's anything that Markilplier has taught me, it's that you can't have the YouTuber without the fans; I can't have this blog without you guys. He's built up a whole community in a corner of the internet, one where the line between fan and fame get blurred too often to not be noticed. Man, if I could do 1/12th as good of a job as he does, I'll explode. Because I wouldn't believe it at first.

But then, you know, I'll get together with my techie friends and figure out how to throw one of the most awesome internet parties ever.

Thanks so much for reading.

Let's go break this blog out of jail.

And then we'll throw a party.

Heck yeah.

~PolarFarina

 UPDATE: Yeah, this isn't happening overnight. I guess I'm not cut out for the famous blog life.... yet. I'm only sixteen. There's still time to change that. See you in the next post, which will be whenever. I have a suddenly busy and complicated life. Such is that of the teenager.
I'm tired of apologizing, and I bet you're sick of me apologizing. But here's one more: I'm sorry. It's my fault I've been so inconsistent. It's all on me. But when I try to take off again, it just makes it that much slower. I'm just so frustrated at myself because I basically set myself up for this failure.... So I'm sorry you have to sit through this ordeal. I need someone to tell me that they care. To prove they exist. Because I'm kind of questioning my own existence here, and.... I have to say, it's not that fun. Even if it's a simple, three word email or comment. You have no idea how big of a deal I'll make it. Literally, the last time I got an anonymous comment (months and months ago), I shouted my excitement so loud, I bet the other side of the country could hear it. My whole family definitely knew about it. And, I try to reply to every comment that I can, but hey, I'm not perfect.
In the span of one summer, this blog hit one thousand views. And that just about made my head explode. Today, it's sitting comfortably at 1,700 views, or thereabouts. And I know you might be thinking, "Oh, that's a TON of views!"
You know what a ton of views is?
ONE THOUSAND. In the span of ONE MONTH.
It's been half a year. And I'm sputtering, flailing. I don't know what to do -- where did everybody go? I'll keep writing, but since I left Facebook and therefore stopped advertising myself, views have declined considerably. And I stopped Facebook because I thought I had a real social life. (Seriously, in the real world I have a total of about ten friends now. It's, like, a record. For me.) And what kind of blogger needs to advertise themselves?

Basically I'll keep trying, but I'm sort of fighting a current here. Stuff is going to be a lot slower if I don't get some help now and then. And I'm asking for your help. Can you do that? Check on my blog, say, once a week, maybe, or send me some cool (Or not so cool) email and comments and stuff? (Or maybe.... real mail? If that's still a thing, email me for info and stuff.) Because that would help immensely. Really, you don't know how much of this blog is motivation.

.... This update was going somewhere.....

On a brighter note,
Uh...
Hm.
OH! On a brighter note, I'm on Tumblr now. Mostly I just reblog gifs of Markiplier being cute and stuff. If you like that sort of thing, then go check it out. My handle is epicninjabowlerhatguy.

....

Yeah, it's named after that comic I posted on here about three years ago. Throwback Tumblr account.

-UPDATE OVER-

-FOR NOW-