A FaceBook Wall Story:
I screamed, "Love me, love me! Why won't you love me?" From in a relationship to single; I was depressed, and then
a great wind blew in the window as if there wasn't enough air to breathe in a house; a storm had to brew to get me to see the vastness of my living room. There is loneliness in contentment, so I took a few steps outside.
--
I felt social. Five hundred and sixteen friends.
--
Just above me there were heavy, saturated with moisture and warmth clouds. Even though they're miles away they've manage to say, "Hello. I'm here for you." The walls wear no expressions, but they still hear me. . . and when I'm not watching they steal everything I own. . . I still can't find my shirt and my computer died a curious death. I stopped watching porn a long time ago, but there were still viruses. The inanimates our out to break us, but "I'm not a toy, do not toy with me I breathe!" But I think there are four walls for a reason:
September Box us in.
December Cage us up like chickens.
February Rip our skins.
May Steal our hands and feet for soups.
See More
-
“Hello dear,” her shriveled hands covered my skin, “Have you ever tasted real chicken noodle soup?”
--
Samantha Rodriguez and Jak Mussington Cooper are now friend with. . . “Damn, just limit your profile, so no one can read your wall”
--
I do not want to be a mystery. Honest Box: Do you believe I am a quiet person?
--
I'm a troublemaker, I hate college, I love parties, and single doesn’t mean I’m looking for somebody. 8 hours ago. Comment. Like.
--
When people die their FaceBooks live on. Jonia Mendonca Guterres, Charlie Scanlon, Innocent Mutetwa they do not appear on our news feeds . . . and their names are bold and black not like the hyperlink blue. Facebook somehow knows they’re dead.
--
I do not have enough friends, but I will not add just anyone. Just because your last name is ‘Mussington’ does not mean that I should add you . . .
--
It could have happened when I was on FaceBook, Jonia must have died while I was scrolling up and down her profile, commenting on pictures, commenting on her friends, commenting on her life, but I wasn’t there.
--
Jonia went down to the river by herself, removed her towel from her petite waste, and began to swim. The water was cold, since it had been raining up until then, but her body began to adjust once her head was fully submerged. She treaded water until she was comfortable with the temperature then she decided to do laps in circles. Suddenly, a sharp pain ran up her leg, a muscle spasm. She kicked and thrashed about to get above the water, but she was in too deep. Water rushed into her mouth; she tried to call for help.
--
I logged off.
No comments:
Post a Comment