Life in 2014

You log onto Facebook to scroll through your news feed. The name isn’t quite right because actual news is few and far between and the news that is there is just something from the local news stations website. 
These stories are of varying degrees of importance.
Like the big wreck at the race track Saturday night, no one was hurt but it’s big news because racing is a way of life and there are two kinds of people when there is news like this: people that call for rules to be tightened up and people that will tell you bumpins racin. Or the stories about a body being found in a ditch on the side of the road. 
Once one was found beside apartment buildings you thought about moving into if for no other reason than the proximity to Cook Out. You were glad you didn’t move there, that was a close one! 
Though in all likelihood you wouldn’t have been the body in the ditch any more than you were likely to be in a ditch where you live now. Then there are the missing persons and the pictures of the bad storms that roll through on humid summer afternoons.
But these only come up every once in awhile. 
On a typical day you are scrolling through posts people have shared that tell you to share them too if you believe in Jesus and people bemoaning the fact they have lived to see another Monday morning.
Sometimes the good stuff comes up.
Like when you find out that girl you went to high school with has finalized the divorce with her second husband and is left with her second child, both being from different dads, at twenty three. Or the couple that can’t spell to save their lives, or anyone else’s for that matter, declaring their love is forever after a month. Then there is the satisfaction that comes from Facebook stalking your ex’s new significant other and finding out you are significantly more attractive, or at the very least more successful. Except for those times when the new person is better than you on both counts.
Sometimes there is the stuff that makes you angry; the people complaining about it being 150 degrees in their car which you are certain that both it is not 150 degrees and there are people who would get in a 150 degree car gladly because they don’t have any car to get into. 
Or when your estranged father shares a picture, similar to the Jesus ones, declaring his love and reverence for his child whom he hasn’t spoken with in two years and seventeen weeks. The cousin who gushes about the funny thing your nephew said but in reality only tells him to stop talking so goddamn much. 
You question just how much of life is based solely on appearances. 
You contemplate deleting the damn thing but never will because if you did you would have to call your family to keep I’m touch. Sometimes you say in jest that seeing others ignorances makes you feel better about yourself but you don’t quite mean it in jest.
So everyday multiple times a day you open the app on your phone, scroll through your news feed, and occasionally feel more alone than connected.
But you won’t stop. 
There is a sick pleasure that comes from knowing intimate things about others who claim their lives are no ones businesses but their own.
What brings more pleasure?
The validation you feel when one, three, ten, sixteen, maybe even more like the picture you have posted or the status you have created.

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