“In the cocoon of electronic messaging, we imagine the people we write to as we wish them to be; we write to that part of them that makes us feel safe. You feel in a place that is private and ephemeral.”
If we are all bloodless automatons working from the same dog-eared script…what does it mean to write to a speck of a person…to create and then rely upon formulaic relationships and interactions?
Are you performing again? You are a traveling sideshow and I am your fee-paying fickle audience.
Essentially, we are writing our friends into creation. How do you cope when you don’t get the response you anticipated? When you get no response at all? When you build yourself up for…
How do you react when the person you sit across from, finally, does not match that person you were speaking to all those times? Which was real and which was fake? Which is your projection and which is a reflection? Which is a reaction and which is just an action? We are forgetting Newton’s laws–bending them to our will.
It makes my head hurt. I’m glad we don’t text regularly. In your texting mind, I am exactly who you want me to be. Does that make you feel safer? We are supposed to be learning how to manage all these messy bits. We are supposed to understand how to make the most of an unsafe world, not deny ourselves our very reality. Welcome to Human, where the points don’t matter and everyone’s a fuck-up.