The screen didn’t burn my eyes as it should, as I was taught it would. Face clenched and lids squinting I tear up, but never to the point where I would actually break down. Never have I ever, but how I wish I had… Maybe I could get on with things.
I fix my computer, check my phone, look back up once again. Endlessly. There are no new signs of life. The opposite, actually, only distress signals from all around the world. The same alarms keep blaring for us to answer. I store them like unread mail youp pretend you’ll read one day.
I don’t think it’s the screen. I don’t think it’s the ever worsening news cycle. For me, it’s being part of something, a community, creating a moment, an alternative, just for you and me, and maybe along the way everybody else. The screen is a verge, but I am the very dam we hoped to jump off of: the cracks now shatter the sky but I am still standing strong against all odds and my own will.
You don’t look at the screen as a mirror or a void. It’s a place of confidence in the spotlight, it’s the ability to blend in while also shining bright. I see a face and as with any face, any real face, I am scared. I see through the screen but I can’t see through you let alone past you. I never remember an eye color.
In my mind I create a perfect image of each of you, better even than that which you try to present. The internet is not the echo chamber I am, your words resonate, worlds collide. In the end though I am empty.
I feel devoid of empathy.
How do you change the world ? Understand, how do you color the dark walls of my chest where your words resonate with such clarity? How do I reproduce such a marvel?
I am stuck. I am glued to my screen. I am in awe of the possibilities. Reach in, don’t put the phone down, take a dive into the cave.
Can you hear the water reaching the rocky surfaces? The waves come cautiously popping against my heart. There is an ominous rippling melody. I fear for the ancient paintings which cover the ceiling: you drew them last spring. Everything seems ages away now.
This self-righteousness bullshit needs to stop. For now I’m paralyzed, and all the weight falls on the screen, since I am but an empty shell. All falls on you as I virtually flog my pristine social media self, which I have difficulty understanding is not me.
If it could only be the cold still water for another century. But it needs pouring, boiling. I need coming out of the screen, break the barriers of my own making. I am a coward and I still need your friendship, I need your echo.
I will burn down everything else.