Trepidations

I sat in a chair looking for the world to find me again, and got quite mediocre at it.

It was what everyone else was doing, though some more mobile than others. I realized that everyone was hooked, tobacco had nothing upon this. There were those who started with live journal like it was drinking in high school. We all started drinking at MySpace State collage. Indeed, some of us experimented at this college far beyond what could be considered safe while listening to some really crappy bands. Then it seems as if all that experimenting was leading towards making progressively worse decisions, eventually culminating with moving on to the hard stuff.

I speak of course of Facebook and Twitter. Which will be known from now on as crack and meth, respectively. Sure it sounds like a great way to meet new people, yet the people you meet seem so distant, most likely because they are all floating along like you are in your drug crazed newfound existence. None of this is readily apparent to you, because all experiences seem new and heightened. You make excuses, like this is what everyone is doing, and I am just fitting in socially. You try to make it look like it makes you so much wiser and deep. Status updates that sound like song lines, or even worse using song lines as metaphors for existence.

All it takes is a little encouragement, someone likes what you have to say might as well take another hit.

Then you see a response and they pass the needle around, shouldn't have to worry about where this is going...

Before you know it, you are sneaking crack and meth at work, paying big bucks to be able to pick up your phone and get it quick. No big deal, it makes getting through the day easier. However hard you try, it starts to get in the way of your work. Pretty soon, the thought of what is going on with crack and meth consumes your world. Maybe you will take a hit under the table at dinner with your parents, or while your boss is in the other room. Then it comes to the point where your real life relationships become strained by it. Slowly but surely you lose touch with real people, though some check in from time to time, mostly so they can gossip about you and hide it from you. Others seem to be on top of their addictions. She doesn't seem to be abusing meth. Crack makes him interesting. They just do it to get ready for parties. Why is this hitting me so hard, am I somehow broken?

Well, then it gets really bad, and you then go far outside your circle of friends looking for people who can make you feel good again. Shady characters hooked on this stuff themselves share inauthentic. Before long you are strung out and you have nothing to offer the meth/crack heads. You just float along stinking of shame, teeth rotting out behind a new profile picture, incoherent ramblings of impending doom on a virtual street corner, and you become territorial while begging for someone to give you some hint of normalcy through the drug that you still deny is at the root of your problem.

I sit here like I did for so many days since I took up these filthy habits of electronic social medium. Trying to suppress the urge to look to see if anyone noticed I was gone from the corner, to see if taking refuge in a church nearby or dead in a gutter. I sit shaking from withdrawal, I sit fearful about my future. This is the thing about the drug, it will change how you think and feel. The good and the bad will never have the same context again. I sit and wonder what I can salvage, and how long I can stay sober. I just do not want to be tricked again by my eyes. Trepidations.