I hate social media

Photo: LoggaWiggler

And here I am again, engulfed in flames after learning some shitty little detail about his new life. Frenetic pacing thoughts consume me, as I move between scenes of my current life to visions of what his life must be. Everything seen through this scratched lens that only zooms in on tiny, inconsequential moments that assuredly lack any basis in reality.

Me: Alone in a bed big enough for two surrounded by pillows to eat up the space.

Him: Drinking a fruity beverage on an exotic beach.

Me: Donning my shabby shirt I bought while we were still together lamenting that I can’t afford new things.

Him: Gazing into a sunset over a strange sea, holding her close, falsely promising to love her forever.

My skin toasts up with the anger inside. I’m crispy to the touch bristling at everyone. When I whisper what’s making me mad it’s all platitudes and, “duh, he’s an asshole” from others. Somehow this only fans the flames.

“raging against a storm”

I can’t decide if I would feel better marooned alone on an island raging against a storm, or lavishly swathed in laughter, lingering amongst all our shared friends. To let loose these spasms into a torrent of nonsensical screaming? Or to prove I’m doing better amongst the people that would surely be best equipped to judge? Which of these might extinguish this hungry furnace inside me? Somehow I know neither will help.

I sit amongst a haze of pure grumpiness trying to buckle down and focus on the work in front of me. Meanwhile my outer shell crumbles. I can’t find pleasantness inside me to share with others. I won’t bother with a grin. I’m nothing like the me I usually am with colleagues and strangers. Realizing this only vexes me further as I see the me I want to be too far away to touch.