instagram account. As of late, I erased my Twitter account, where I had almost 6,000 supporters. Friends are motionless on the grounds that who erases their web based life? Companions wonder how I'll stay aware of them, and all the more significantly, what will I manage without Facebook cautioning me of their birthday events? Obviously, these are vital inquiries. The inquiries within recent memory.
https://www.crunchbase.com/organization/react-native-app-development-4f7b#section-overview
https://vator.tv/company/React-native-app-development
https://www.tuugo.us/Companies/react-native-app-development/0310006487343
A friend tells me I’ve isolated myself—what she doesn’t understand is that the act of removing the social burdens we bear is fucking liberating.
Maybe we should ask ourselves: When did we become lazy in our relationships? When did we start relying on platforms that own our information to do the work of conversation and connection? When did it become abnormal to not have a social media presence?
https://www.crunchbase.com/organization/react-native-app-development-4f7b#section-overview
https://vator.tv/company/React-native-app-development
https://www.tuugo.us/Companies/react-native-app-development/0310006487343
A friend tells me I’ve isolated myself—what she doesn’t understand is that the act of removing the social burdens we bear is fucking liberating.
Maybe we should ask ourselves: When did we become lazy in our relationships? When did we start relying on platforms that own our information to do the work of conversation and connection? When did it become abnormal to not have a social media presence?
Honestly, I’ve grown tired of measuring the depth of my connection with the world based on how I was posting carefully curated and edited information about my life. People bemoan the fakeness of social media in pursuit of the real, but they don’t actually want real. More positivity in posts means higher follower counts; people want to follow those who don’t share much negativity, and that’s a fact. Funny how we talk about the plastic nature of social media as if it were a thing removed from us. As if social media were an entity we didn’t actively shape and participate in. As if we aren’t the people perpetuating this false reality—regardless whether we’re conscious of it.
The knowledge that people saw my pain and didn’t seem to care enough to reach out was worse than the actual cause of my anxiety.
Because everyone loves a happy ending, a triumphant comeback story.
I’m good at using language to disguise my wounds. I’ve spent the greater part of 35 years talking about how love and loss are flip sides of the same coin. The line between the two is indecipherable. I published two books about women who lived in a constant state of dressing their wounds. I write essays that are cryptic and poetic and people clap and say, “damn that was pretty,” before they up and leave.
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