You Don’t Have To Be What The Internet Wants You To Be
It’s okay to be offline, boring, or violently uncool.
Shut off your phone. There you go. Easy does it. Let it slide out of your hand and onto the floor, and it’s okay if the case, cover, what have you shatters and cracks because there will always be new ones. There will always be repairs. Kick the phone under your bed and let it breathe there for a while Let it collect dust bunnies and lint and the socks you never seem to find. Let it buzz, let it ring, let it sing, let it burn a hole through the fucking floor because it is possible to live without your appendage. It is possible to live without. It is possible to live. It is possible.
Though — every few seconds, I find myself reaching for it. Crawling under the bed, squeezing myself and scraping my body against metal. There go the cuts, the blood — the price I pay for my wants. Always reaching. Believing the device that has only existed for less than two decades is a life raft that can save me. Be the defibrillator that can breathe life back into these old bones! I beg and beckon it. Give me fame. Give me glory. Give me love. Give me a hobby that can be monetized or Instagrammed. Rub the wrinkles from my face and whittle me down to bone so I can resemble all the other automatons on screen.
