I locked myself out of my Facebook account because I needed to know that I was worth more than a red number. It sounds stupid to me too, but I can become a slave to validation pretty easily.
The internet’s a cool and dangerous place, I think. It’s an exchange of ideas and connections to people far away, but it’s also fake and glossy, and it sucks away time.
On Friday I went to a Write Your Life Story Class at the senior center and listened to old people read stories about their lives. It made me wonder what I was doing with mine.
Sometimes I think I’m afraid of everything.
When I was little, my mom used to pick me up from school on Fridays instead of having me ride the bus home, and I always had this irrational fear that she’d forget me. I can remember at least once crying before school was even over because I was so scared of being forgotten.
It doesn’t make sense to me now, but I remember what it felt like. Sometimes I think I don’t feel so different now. I’m still afraid of being forgotten.
The internet’s a way to carve out a place for yourself, to make people see you’re the coolest or the cleverest or whatever. But it doesn’t translate that well into anything real.
I want to be real.