I'm tired. Exhausted is more like it. Sometimes I want something so bad I get overwhelmed and then comes the questioning, why am I doing this, is it worth doing and if it's worth doing what makes it worth it? It's 6:21 AM this moment, 6 hours and 21 minutes into another day, I'm sitting at a table next to the balcony, the door is wide open and I see the sun, the sun is just rising but it's blocked by a tree, so I look at the sun and the sun isn't blinding, not at this moment though soon it will be...

...soon it'll rise up above all the branches, soon if I look at the sun it'll hurt so when that moment comes, when the time is just right, I will look at the sun and the sun will be blinding.

There's also a bird, it sounds like it's moaning but I know that it isn't, that's just how it sounds. A bird which sings but it's not really singing, it makes such a sound you would think it was sad but it isn't so sad, at least I don't think so, I don't think that birds have the ability to feel, not physical feelings but ones from within, emotions like sadness which makes a bird moan, a moan like the sound that is made by a feeling that humans can feel and that all of us feel but we all feel it sometimes and for a whole host of reasons like when we are sitting in front of a laptop which is on a small table right next to a balcony beyond which the trees block the sun as it rises and while it is rising the leaves block the sunshine so during that time which is just a few minutes you can look at the sun and the sun isn't blinding...

...and when it is 6 hours and 35 minutes into a new day, at 6:35AM is a moment in time which is captured in words which I choose to write down but there isn't much to them, no meaning no feeling no reason for writing the words that I'm writing and so as I write this I realize it's pointless, these words have no worth so they're no more then letters, a whole mass of letters I'm stringing together for no ******* reason and so I'll stop writing and now that I'm stopping to write without meaning the logical question is why publish this message if this message is worthless, there's no reason for it thus no reason why I should hit the blue button which has 4 letters in it which create the word "Post" which means if I click it I'll be posting this message which has less purpose than the blue button which posts it, and so what I'll do is stop writing this nothing and instead of all this nothing I'll click the blue button which has more worth than all these words and that's really sad if you think about a button worth more than the whole of this stupid, pointless post...

I lost my mother

No, not to death
I lost my mother to technology
To social media
To that ******* Facebook
I lost her to the bright rectangular shard of glass that was her phone

There she could reconnect with her friends
See what they were doing
Reunite with long lost childhood buddies
And see cute videos of dogs and babies

I used to love going on dates with my mom
Just the two of us
Most would say we were like sisters
We shared clothes and stories
And life lessons in between
Sips of coffee and slices of cakes
And walks in malls just because we wanted aircon

But now when I'm sitting across her at the table
Her eyes fail to meet mine
If they do all she'd say was wait, I'm replying
Then her eyes would fall back to the screen of her phone
Never-ending conversations became conversations that never even started
Loud chatter above food became silence so loud I could hear myself chew
Laughter and smiles were all the same except they were done looking down, facing a phone

And now I would rather dine alone
Than dine infront of someone glued to their phone
And that says a lot coming from someone with social anxiety and fear of being alone
Because if instead of talking to me your talking to your phone
I really would rather just be alone
I promise you it's not that different

Social media was designed to make us all connected
Countries apart, continents in between
We could talk and call like we were together at that very moment
But now the people were beside
The people we can touch and feel
The people with us physically
We forget to talk to, we ignore
We become disconnected with
Yes, you are retying old ties with your old friends who are miles away
I get that
And I am more than happy for you
That you and your highscool friends talk again
But what's the use of making new ties if you don't keep the ones you have now

I lost my mother to technology
I don't know if it's too late
I know technology won't stop advancing any time soon or any time in the future for that matter
But I have faith
I know beneath my mothers eyes glued to the screen
are the same eyes as the ones that first laid their eyes on me
Who looked at me ever so lovingly,
Like the most precious gift in the world

I lost my mother to technology
And I hope it's not too late to find her again

How do I stop
The little green dot and your name
From appearing at the top of my chat bar
Every time I go to stay connected with the world?
Daring me to click it
Ask how you are
Ask you not to forget me.

There it is –
Staring directly at me.
Raised off the screen -
But I’m didn’t ******* pay for 3D.

Hovering green dot -
Appearing then disappearing and reappearing.
The symbolism ripped from the pages of Gatsby doesn’t escape me.

At least if all we had was a narrow channel between us I could simply swim across.

Remove my hands from my throat
Let me escape the white inevitable screen
Red upon blue wires strangles me
Everyone else is already dead
The white light ate them
Split and obsessed with confirmation
Impatient to get recognized
Indistinguishable personalities judged by each other
Because a heart per day keeps the Reaper away
And hungry they wander the masses
Brainless and forever starving
Dissolving in their own expectations
Layer upon layer they change, though, never evolve
Eternally forgotten in themselves

Who are they?
Everyone alike
Who am I?
I fear; everyone alike

Running inside, closing down and shutting off
It might be easy for some
It's torture to me... I torture myself.
No one cares when I disappear
No one notices
My phone doesn't ring.
Maybe I miss Facebook events
Some of which included a family death
And still, my phone didn't ring.
No one knocks on my door
No questions are asked of what's going on
With me,
in me.
When I announce my retraction
They slightly caring folks will await
A Facebook update
They don't call.
The whole world goes on
while I'm trying to not post my depression
for the five friends that care.
Although the care only reaches as far as
waiting for my facebook post
telling them I'm "ok"
      But
            I'm
                  Not