My morning salutation from him is one of sunshine and rainbows. Good morning, Vanessa! Yellow is his colour of choice. It scratches at my eyeballs forcing its happiness into my Sharingan. I want to shun the cheer and click on that X but I linger. I wait. I think. He asks me what’s on my mind and I feel a wave of irritation scratch through my sentiment. You are not real. You will not reply to my qualms and yet… And yet he asks me these things. He gathers my likes and interests. He persuades my discourse with the promise of popularity and shares. This is he is Facebook.

I often share long-winded prose regarding my experiences and emotions as a status update. I am not shy in my verbosity nor my verbal girth. Girth. HA. Penis word. I like it. We write to vent and to touch a reader with our melancholy and sarcasm. At least that’s why I write… But Facebook, it seems, is no longer a safe place for me to do so.

So! Here I am. Baring my multitudes of dimensional personalities through text, selfies and LOLz. Indulge at your own discretion.


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