Social media sucks.
Because, you know, sometimes I have a shitty day, for no reason.
And because I’m sort of a hermit most of the time, I don’t really always have the chance to express myself to actual humans…that I choose to share my thoughts/feelings with.
So I want to go to the net and have my little “waaaaaahh” session and shit, which I really don’t do that often. Because I’m not crying all the time. That’s not my thing.
(I also don’t feel like I’m a narcissist - look at how seldom I post on Tumblr, for example. Or Facebook. I often go days or weeks without updates, for many reasons, mostly because I don’t typically feel that Every last thought or experience I have is that Earth-shattering that “I MUST SHARE.”)
But so many people are…so many ARE that self-absorbed. And I think it’s kind of sad and also kind of a joke that people go SO OFTEN to the well of “Look at Me” or whatever that they do when seeking attention/approval from humanity via social media. Posting on whatever site umpteen times a day about their lives in real time.
And all this is really just my long way of prefacing and disclaiming the fact that I feel like sharing that I’m having a shitty day. And I don’t want to feel guilty about going to the internet to share that. I don’t do this very often, and I’m going to allow myself to be okay with it.
This particular shitty day did not arrive with any good reason behind it. Maybe it’s a particular lack of sleep. Maybe I’m concentrating too much on the aspects of my life that are really dissatisfying. Maybe the chemicals in my brain are out of their usual balance. I don’t know.
But what I want you to know is that I don’t care so much about your response to all of my statements here. (Frankly, I’d be surprised if you read this far. Even more surprised if you continue on through the end.)
What I care about is the fact that I’ve finally been able to set down somewhere what’s going on in my brain RIGHT NOW, so I can let go of it.
Because I feel kind of like I’m going nuts a little bit. Like, I want to cry, but not really. I want to talk, but not really. I certainly don’t want to go out tonight…even though it’s Saturday night and there’s plenty I could be doing.
If I could even muster up enough courage to take the dog out for a walk right now, I’d be impressed with myself.
If you’d have told me (or anyone that knew me) at age 18 that I’d develop adult-onset social anxiety, you’d have been laughed at.
And you’d be having the last laugh right now.