The pilgrim called popularity

When I have insisted, I have questioned, what mostly I did not comprehend in the very first place. I have gained attention, mastered some sort of ingenuity in creating ambiguity. Did I really have an opinion? I darn should. Did I make sense after or before I passed out? Was I tossed out or stacked inside, following the slur I developed each time I had the mike piece?

Nada! Instead I had My space, Facebook and a magnitude of free web space where only I could determine whether or not I was important.  And so I had an opinion on everything. About things that I did not give a rat’s arse about. Popularity was measured and subsequently counterfeited by how many visitors I had, on my web page.  I became smarter. I was an author, philosopher, and a photographer all in one breath. I was also significantly hanged at the flagpole, ignored and named an imbecile among the facts of existence.

Nothing changed yet in my entirety though all of a sudden me and myself were approved. Was it because I good naturedly called it random and prefixed awesomeness besides it.

Could be, I don’t get what either of them means, and am too awesome to randomly find my dictionary to look for it.

And because you reached till here you certainly deserve to hear HER out!