At the touch of a button,
flick of the finger,
swip of the screen,
I can know more than the generations before me could.

I'm exposed to people I could never hope to meet,
their thoughts and feelings condensed to numbers and words on a screen,
introduced to so many thing that i've never seen before.

I'm so overwhelmed by how the world is turning,
suddenly conscious of my own failings:
the homophobic uncle, the sexist teacher, the racist childhood television show.

The shame creeps in and there is no stopping it,
what I built myself up on has eroded as the new world is redecorated in glass and chrome.

I have friends I don't respect anymore, and films I refuse to watch.
Natural disasters and catastrophes are reduced to hashtags, people you've never met can tell you that you're too tall, too short, too fat, too thin.

The digital revolution has already begun, and there is no turning back.
I am exposed, developed, and forever changed for better and for worst.
It's a fact I find hard to accept, so I blame my service provider.

They say that time heals all wounds,
But that doesn't mean I don't remember being wounded.

Cut to the bone and strung out on the rack,
I stitched myself back together and mended what you left broken.

Did you really expect me to let the bull back into the shop?

If I were to be wounded again,
the fault would not be with you.

And that's a cut I don't think I  could survive.

Sometimes my heart is heavy for no reason,
and I need to sleep,
and cry,
and scream.

I know I need these things,
but I just can't do it in a crowd full of people,
which never gets smaller,
nor any further away from me.

So I will wait for that blishful moment when I am left alone,
but then I will realise
that it was the crowd that held me together all this time.

Scars are ****, until they're psychological

Confidence is envious, until it you find out it's false

Patience is a virtue, until people abuse it

No one knows what they're doing, so don't beat yourself up.

Just cover the scars, smile, wait patiently,

And fake it til you make it

You were like a 90's movie:

Completely consuming to my younger self, every line, catchphrase, and sequence embedded in me. Becoming as much part of me as my own personality.

Totally embarrassing and shameful to my older self, a harsh reminder that I was even young and ignorant. That I confused quantity for quality; in love, affection, whispered sweet nothings on stale bed sheets.

But remembered with a nostalgia that can't quite be recreated, no matter how many times I try to relive it in my head.

Perhaps it's because I'm still too young, and the best metaphor I can conjure up when people ask me about my first love

is that you were like a 90's movie.

As pathetic as it sounds, it is no doubt fitting, because we outgrew each other with age.

It was only with time that we saw each other as laughably outdated.

Perhaps we are all just products of our time.