Honest Facebook-ing.

Yes. I must not, but I know I will. What can I say? I am a creature of habit. I let the lights be off, I slowly get off my bed and move towards the laptop. The dimmed light shines on my face and shows the darkness. I logon and open the window. Then I type in the search and before you know it I am halfway down the road I took an oath to avoid. Facebook is probably the biggest blackhole out there.

But hey. It’s just for this once, it isn’t like I’m hooked to it or anything. Right? Right? Like if you agree with me. Oh no sorry.

So I click on the tab that says my name. Because at my age having an identity crisis is probably the most trustworthy thing I know of. Of course subconsciously I probably expect this to tell me everything about myself. About how I can live my life and more importantly how I should. I expect it to show me all those who consider me important in an effort to highlight that my existence is validated by the approval of others. I write a clever status, poking fun at an advertisement of some political matter because this is the age where I can be brushed aside as an immature cynic by the middle aged and as a middle aged individual by the young toddler “13 year olds”. Why either figure on my friend list is probably a matter of discussion for another full moon night.

But wait, this isn’t helping. I get it I am funny and witty but that isn’t satisfying the gnawing feeling I am having inside. Like when you’re at a buffet and you don’t have sweet for dessert. This doesn’t feel right. Oh thank the lord and saviour MZ for giving me the option to explore my home screen. Probably seeing others lives will help me feel better about my own insecurities. Because obviously everyone portrays their lives as they actually are. Not like from one high to another. Right? Right? Share if you ag….oh shoot I did it again.

Oh look, my college friend is doing a cross country road trip across another continent. Ha. This is the same guy who failed to get the seat in the metro which anyone playing varsity (in the metro Olympics) should have won. Ha. Yeah, I bet he really regrets that now. Moving on. 

Oh hey cool, a school friend got a new job. No kidding, I thought this guy was hibernating. Haven’t heard from him for ages. Wait, why has my other school friend got married? Wait, has she got married to my other school friend? Are you serious?

I'll just leave this here, shall I?

                                              

Oh okay, here’s my first favourite hipster page. Hahahaha, would you look at that. They captured my pain of existence and nicely coated it with pseudo humour to make it look like existentialism isn’t a crippling condition and in the words of some coach somewhere can be just laughed off. I wonder if that’s just a polite way to accept that trying to solve your problems means an entirely different verb followed by off from the Universe.

 Oh hey, this friend is finally writing. I am so glad. In fact I remember this one moment when we both had discussed about pursuing writing and had similar reservations about it. I guess if she has picked it up now, I might soon too right? Right? Tag a friend who….oh for crying out loud.

Hey is that my arthritic relative? Wow it really shows in this dance that they are doing. I mean arthritis is probably the kindest explanation I can give for whatever they are doing in that baraat.

Oh hey, my colleague from my previous firm is going on assignment to some Scandinavian country. Yeah I am pretty sure I did not want that. He did. I guess that insulates me from feeling a twinge of regret for not having followed the generic path of success. Thankfully I trust my decisions and rarely question myself. Can you imagine anything to the contrary?

I bet I've probably seen the worst of things now. I mean what could actually  be left?..............
The Overdosing Punctuators. NO!!!!!!!!!!! (SWEET IRONY!!!!! NOOOOO!!!!!.....yeah this can go on for a while)

*scrolling on*

Wait, Trump said what? He can’t say that. I mean he can but he really shouldn’t. I mean he has political ambitions right? Doesn’t that mean you have to be careful about what you say? Oh hey, what is this “Go to Pakis..” okay my bad.

Oh hey, its already 2. I should probably head to bed. Oh hey is that the sound of a devil spawn behind me that if I turn around will take away my soul? I mean I don’t really need sleep right?  Let’s explore the depths of my harddrive. Ooh, generic series I have seen probably a hundred times. I bet I can watch a season before I regret my decisions right? Oh well, won’t know for sure till I try.

Image credits: http://waitbutwhy.com/2013/09/why-generation-y-yuppies-are-unhappy.html