background character

I get moody around the New Year. It’s a fact, I just don’t like it. Actually, that’s not it; to be a bit more honest, I do like the parties and the dancing around and the late night spent gazing, dazed and giddy, into the cold and damp lampposts’ glow and colourful strobe lights. But I just can’t stand the forced introspection, the “look at where you came from, look at you now”. I do that on my own time already, constantly. And it’s always about looking into the future, about what you can do better, what more you can do (as if we don’t do enough already). I already know that this year was overflowing with changes for me, and that next year is going to be just as much of a bumpy ride. So do I really need to go on and on about resolutions? Change happens when we work for it, apparently, and not overnight (even if it would be much easier if it happened at the snap of a finger).

So, in true New Year tradition, and in forced self-reflection, I’ve decided to answer a question nobody ever dared, dreamed (or cared) to ask : why the name “background character”, exactly ?

It started off as a bit of a daft and silly choice. For quite a while, I’d been hung up on finding a name, with meaning and a cool ring to it. I wanted it to be good, and fun, and the best name anybody could ever come up with. That was far too much pressure to put on a couple of words, far too much pressure for a choice that shouldn’t have been such a hurdle. So I went back to basics, and thought of what I actually wanted to say. I’ve already mentioned I loved books and reading, fantasy and video games, and mostly anything that took away some pressure over the tribulations of life. And these things are usually full of colourful creatures and worlds, of NPCs and background snickers that walk along the main figures. Besides, ever since I can remember (quick disclaimer: this will sound pretentious), I’ve been making up stories and characters and whole worlds in my head. They’ve been around for days, months, and some even for years. They’ve grown with me, alongside me, roaring and soaring, some never even hitting the raspiness of paper.

And I didn’t really fancy myself a main character. Don’t get me wrong, I crave the attention and drama, but I’d rather just sit back and enjoy the show, with a few lines of dialogue, just enough to further the plot. Being a “background character” felt right at that time, even if it does feel a bit tight today. I’ve grown in confidence (the tiniest bit, let’s not get cocky now), in taste and in skill, or at least I hope so. I never thought I’d want to be more than a peripheral avatar, but I do. I want to be able to think for myself without a fear of being judged by peers, I thirst for recognition (and thrive for world domination), but, more importantly, I’m beginning to understand who I am and what I want a bit better. I can see where I end and where I begin sharper than ever, and it just makes me realise how gigantic this path is, but I wanna win, for once, I wanna do it for me.

And thus I started posting things here, without really knowing what I wanted to say. I didn’t want to restrict myself in any way, shape or form, though, and I’m happy I didn’t. It’s not the first time I say this (I do have a tendency to repeat myself, after all), but I still wanted something with more structure than my usual scribbles on torn note blocks, I needed somewhere I could put a random jumble of thoughts without judging my own self for it, some place where I could stand in the background and talk about the things I wanted to whoever would listen, a preach without a choir. I also thought it wouldn’t last this long, that my ideas would run out oh so very soon, and apparently they still haven’t, which is great (and a tad scary, might I add). I wanted to write, that’s all, and I still do. I have this deep longing, this eagerness for language, for words in general, that keeps pushing me forward, gushing like water from a deflating balloon, however clumsy it may be. Sometimes, this urgency keeps me up at night, and sometimes it’s so quiet I can barely feel it whispering. I ask myself hundreds of questions every single time I write a word : does it sound right? Isn’t it cliché? Isn’t it bad? wouldn’t it be better if I just shut up? what are people going to think? I keep hoping it’ll go away someday, though. And it has been dimming, this dreadful feeling, over the past months, with every essay, short story or random ramble I posted.

It’s a surprise to no one, but if I chose this particular phrase and keep posting here, it’s because I’m a sentimental fool. I wanted to write, and was very much scared to do so, but now I’m happy I started. It could be better, sure, and it’s far from perfect, true, but we’re beginning to see progress. I believed, from the start, that it was going to be a progression, a long journey on the silent path of a redemption that I don’t need, that I wanted no one to be a part of. Now I know that this is mostly bullshit (excuse my French), but it did help me take a step closer towards something, even if I’m not quite sure what today. I’m learning how to enjoy this for real, what I like and don’t like about picking up a pen and paper. The amount of texts and sentences I’ve angrily scrapped still frustrates me, though, but sometimes an idea is just something that isn’t worth it, no matter how hard I try.

This was a bit of a strange post, I admit. I guess I did want to straighten things out before going into the new year after all, and I came out with a rather soppy and disjointed lecture. What am I trying to say? I confuse even myself most of the time. The ideas get vague and garbled, hard to follow, when what I’m looking for is clarity. Or maybe I could just accept the fact that I don’t make any sense. Accept the nonsense, the continuous flow of a background noise that never ceases to talk to me. And perhaps that someday, I’ll grow out this “background character” I’ve always tried to bash myself into. Until then, what should I do? Keep writing, posting, submitting myself to this unending endeavour that is the external eye, hand in hand with my internal hybris and doubts. After all, I guess practice will make it perfect.