What’s awkward about Facebook is it confronts you with your patterns of interaction. Every time I glance at the people I have met throughout my life, I am just reminded of how quickly I run through my friends. Because, of these 500-ish people, I talk to, maybe three in real life. I am not a person to keep many friends. I make friends just fine, I’m a swell little gal with charm to spare. No, making friends isn’t the problem. It’s the duration and the reasoning of these relationships that makes me confront my own emotional detachment to Humans.
Cause, honestly, i probably just talk to you so that you’ll talk to me. Because I want to know you. I want to study you. I want to understand you, and I want to see what makes us the same and what makes us so different, what makes us friends, and how we’ll change each other if our lives coincide. So I get to know you, pick you apart until I get it, and put you up on a shelf in a clear glass jar, which in this scenario will be played by Facebook.
Facebook makes this shit too easy. All I have to do is meet you at a party or happen to run into you twelve years after we sat on the same late bus home after a Cursive concert, where we bonded and exchanged what some call “sparks” and I’ve got insider information on every part of your day and life and your friend’s lives and friends with a simple click of linkage, the bond of virtual friendship that allows me to add to or propegate the running commentary on your every action.
I hate run-on sentences but i’m tryina make a point here. Facebook was invented for people like me. Yeah, I like you as a person and all but I don’t particularly want to talk to you. Mostly it’s just that I’ve got enough crazy of my own for a small army, I try not to get involved with those who’ll add to my confusion. Regardless, it just means Yeah I enjoy knowing you, but I’d rather just know of and about you, without that complicated “socializing” gimmick. Isn’t it easier to type out rehearsed yet refreshingly witty poetry to people instead of stumble over your words or your unbalanced feet or your insecurity of “What if you don’t actually like me?”
Maybe I’m glorifying my love of the anti-social social revolution into a sardonic aloofness for people in general, when it’s really just that I’m pretty scared of being disappointed at this point. Maybe I step on your toes when I talk because I want to seem seasoned, when what it might come down to is that I am shooting in the dark. Maybe I just ramble and digress a lot because my brain is trying to get me into my big warm bed with some adult swim and some ice cream, eh? Eh? Think about that one.
Or this one….: http://thisisnottom.com