News headlines based on social media posts reveal the darkest underbelly of this country yet, and the fury is rampant. Both sides of the game board fight for their right to free speech. But is it free speech if it is Nazi ideology, racism, anti-semitism, misogyny? The list goes on and on. As a student of Creative Writing, Sustainability, and Psychology, I find myself more perplexed than not when observing the world around us. The passage of time has shown the evil of the human race is still strong and vibrant in the hearts of those that hate. Yes, it has also shown us that the truth shall prevail, justice shall be served. Hate shines brightly when its fire is stoked, and the cruelty of people is being nurtured.
How long do we wait to see justice and truth? Before we either crumble into oblivion or explode into a new way of living, something's got to give. Sitting idle isn’t it, and crying madly from the mountain tops isn’t it either. Writing passionately on the faces of social media platforms, I tried joining the masses in the digital screaming and shouting sessions. Memes of dreams where the tyrant and his cronies are only a joke, not actual reality, plastered my feeds like electronic wallpaper.
Z*ckerburg joined the game of fascism, and spurred millions of users to abandon ship. Myself included. Taking this short sabbatical from any social media, I found there was a great lacking in my awareness of current crises and human strife.CNN and FOX are only part of the fascist regime, and puke weak attempts at mind control, much to the chagrin of many. A newer platform run by women, I joined BlueSky, and the wondrous skyrocketing population of liberal minded folks was inspiring.
Sidenote - how did we come to accept that basic human rights are “liberal?” Not one religion tells us to shun our neighbours. Not one admonishes us for compassion or empathy. All religion teaches kindness. To use religion as a shield when fighting your fellow human, seems to be the most effective way of brainwashing the public. Power and control.
And I have to give it to them now. I am a Canadian, a white woman, living in the US on a green card. I have been here for 25 years. The United States Government is carrying out abductions of resistors, protestors disappeared to El Salvador. Where they are now kept as prisoners, not criminals, wrongfully deported. I could easily be one of those people, so I deleted Blue Sky and wiped my phone clean of any anti-trump propaganda. My family lives in Canada or the UK. My partner lives here in this country, and I live with him. It isn’t secret, it isn’t hush hush. It is cellophane wrapped in horseshit and lies, gulped deeper by each deep throat of the day.
If I suddenly disappear, I hope friends will search for me. Let this document be used in court if I ever need defense. It is the year 2025, and I write this in my own personal file. I dare not share it.
After the last decade or more of having social media, several platforms with which to post and meme and comment and share pics and stay in touch, I have felt the withdrawal like a physical addiction. Replacing it with gobs of ice cream or too many cheeseburgers, I find myself wondering how I allowed such a deep void to expand within my own heart?
Numbing myself isn’t what I seek, I wish to remain aware and suffer less, but as Buddha says, life is suffering. So to remain aware and suffer is to remain human? The siren song of drugs and alcohol do not intrigue me as they have before, I am akin to the suffering in my search for nirvana. Reality, as unpleasant and distasteful as it is, must be faced dead-on.
I do my hair, my make-up, I put on a stylish outfit, and I go nowhere. Downtown is full of drug addicts, no parking spaces, shitty restaurants, and strangers. Nothing for me there. Smile in the mirror, I have lost weight, I have a new hairdo. I remember days like this I would post a selfie, hoping for some self gratifying praise or compliments, fishing for kind words, trolling for attention.
What blank pages stare back at me, the TV black and dark, the sounds of the highway out my window like reminders of society and its wicked existence, the stark white glow of an empty page slowly filling up with pontificating plausibly deniable truths.
Scrolling through messaging apps, I wonder if I have any friends at all, and seeing their names go by, my face lights up, yes they still exist, social media accounts or not. I open the app to send a message, and see that the ‘friends’ have still not replied to my last messages, sent months and weeks ago.
Have they forgotten me? Is social media that important? To remain an active piece of the friendship puzzle, to remain visible, to remain alive, must I share proof of life online? Do I need confirmation from others to know I am alive?
Let me leave my mark in the ether, in memories faded and fogged by covid and the economy. If I am forgotten so be it, I have forgotten more than just myself. The evil of the world can swallow itself, like a black hole of opinion and judgment, the power and control can be acknowledged and set down. My participation in the game is not dependent on my existence, and it took the fall of democracy to teach me this. Let me leave my mark in my own heart.
I am free, even with the chains and shackles I wear as accessories.
I am wild, even with the reins and bit in my mouth.
I am alive, even with the guilt and weight of human existence heavy in my chest.
I am alone, even with the ones that love me, and without the rest as well.
