I have lost control. My interactions on social media platforms are social but devoid of any genuine tendencies.
My Facebook page is the worst of the lot, mostly because I just gave up.
In the beginning — the hope was to only foster the relationships that matter and not give in to the lure of acquaintances or eager strangers seeking basic connections.
It worked for awhile until it didn’t.
The reason for the now ongoing dysfunction can be attributed to my growing disconnect with the ones that initially mattered.
I started to recognize the fatigue as it hovered every time I visited the page that once welcomed with open arms.
Suddenly I was a stranger — gliding though images and words — trying to decipher between family, friends, people that can pick me out of a lineup and the ones that I no longer recognize.
Cousins, uncles even my brothers were fading away with each post as the pressure to acknowledge their existence — on my page — became a thoughtless chore.
The issue of friends also gave me cause for confusion and still does.
Who are my “friends” and why aren’t we “friendly”.
How is it that these faces from my past haunt me daily as I silently observe their progression and pit it against mine.
Sometimes they’re victorious and once in a while I emerge on top. But what remains constant is the realization that the past can do some much to stretch the hands of time. Or overly manipulate the inevitable.
I guess what I’m taking too long to relay is the fact that I have become emotionless.
In the game and spirit of publicly declaring where you stand when it comes to “liking”, “reacting”, “commenting”, “recommending” or “highlighting” — in all honesty, I would rather stay quiet.
This formula of acknowledgement has stripped me of the ability to truly own my emotions/emoticons — without prejudice or pressure.
I have surrendered to the culture that appoints us to feel something even when we really don’t have that capacity — at that moment.
Silicon Valley’s finest have successfully programmed my faculties to repeatedly indulge in the robotic renderings that translate into dollars and cents — for the nerdy geniuses who think up shitty ways to make us less than human.
My loyalty to family over friends has now become a battle of trying to manage even the most basic response to each — equally.
Worst of all — I have opened up my space to people that I don’t even like but couldn’t refuse because how can I?
You send me a request, I accept and sell myself to even more disillusionment and frustration.
It would be too rude to insist on being honest with myself and forthright with you.
Something I was brilliant at — until now.
My LinkedIn page is an insane asylum — bursting with the faces that represent periods in my life that I would rather forget.
Harassed by recommendations that are founded by invalid recordings and unfortunate missteps.
Some are just downright creepy. Like the invitation to connect with my cousin’s mother in law who isn’t someone I would ever want to know.
Or the false handshakes from former colleagues who hated my guts and whose guts I would gladly feed to an army of pit bulls.
But the systemized facets of connectivity disagree.
It’s all a blurry haze of madness that circulates through these specified networks.
I am convinced they are set up to prove that we really are easily manipulated by the need to feel relevant and appreciated.
If we post something — we demand and expect that enough people will give it the attention it deserves.
If we post an article — the numbers have to reflect that it wasn’t all in vain.
That click of a button means so much when everything is tallied.
And since I’m aware of this even though I honestly don’t give a fuck how many people “like” what I have to say because for the most part not many do — I blaze though my assignment with child-like ambition.
For the sake of mankind and in self-defeat.
The key is to get thorough it and not go any deeper than necessary.
But the other day, as I surveyed the status on my allotted platforms, I became scared and wary.
Twitter is easy — I hardly know most of my followers but their support for my work is surprisingly genuine and consistent.
LinkedIn will always be a damn mess and I just can’t be bothered. All the increasing invitations to “connect” at the behest of cyber manipulation will never be honored.
Facebook is the saddest of them all. I live through whatever is “shared” and like everybody else — I partake in it and click my emotions away.
And that’s where it ends.
It doesn’t have to be like this but after enough time passes it’s the only option that can be accommodated.
And eventually it evolves into the method that makes the most sense. Phone calls and text messages be damned.
You are just a set of options that dictate my habits.
Not my heart.