antisocial media

i clicked on the F icon
pinned to my favorites bar
like ordering a drink, “i’ll have the usual, sammy”
the usual–Facebook navel gazing oneupmanship
thinly cloaked
in a fishnet of connection blue whales could swim through
with not even an outside chance of touching
yes yes, it’s more than that a lot of the time
but it’s also too much of that enough of the time
i scroll down
to news so personal i’m taken in
a new friend with her new fiancee
smiling, aglow
love like botox
puffs her cheeks
apple and rosy round
i’m happy for them
i click on the thumbs-up icon
(i’d click on it long enough for a heart to show up, like i can do on my iphone, but my imac doesn’t allow for such advanced level communications)
i scroll down
another post has me laughing,
loving its writer, kiese laymon, more with each word:
“chile, Hoarders will have you feeling like you are amazing”
because it’s true
and because sometimes we need the bar set low to feel like we’re doing okay
and that’s…
another click of a pointing-up thumb
i scroll down
i see an acquaintance’s post and i feel judgy
because i don’t care to know everything great and amazing and superlatively super about your life if you’re not going to also divulge a little bit of your existential angsty messiness on here every now and again, but you know what? that you never post even a hint of the angsty messiness of your existence on here convinces me you’re attempting to project a picture of perfection here to gloss over the despair you feel, which makes me sad for you–in case knowing that is even the least bit helpful to you who appears to never need help
i take a breath, pause, and find it in my heart to extend some compassion her way
i scroll down
news of an iceberg
the size of a state
–i cross my mental fingers hoping it’s only a Rhode Island-sized state–
broke off Antarctica
my peace flattens, freezes

why oh why do I come here?


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