Playing Pretend and Social Media

I go on these stints of social media hiatus. Trips I tend to take frequently for various reasons. I feel that social media and it's various forms don't do much to remedy the sense of loneliness I get when battling the dog.

Usually people don't even notice that I'm no longer in their various feeds, timelines, or what have you. "Didn't you see that thing on Facebook?" I'll be asked frequently in the real world. Which I usually reply in some such capacity that I haven't been on social media for personal reasons. It's a big deal for my brain to force myself out of the scenarios presented online, but the remainder of the populace doesn't even notice.

Imagine the progress that I lose whenever I eventually cave and revert back to social media. Not only has everyone in my life moved on, but they've done so without me even being a blip on the radar. Old flames have moved on to bigger and better relationships, put me in their rearview and not looked back. Friends and co-workers live life as though when I leave their sight I just vanish into the tomes of some imaginative story somewhere. I'm to be called upon in a later chapter when I play a supporting role in their personal narrative.

It gets very difficult to maintain this facade of being okay while out in public. I laugh, I talk, I pretend to feel attractive when a pretty girl smiles at me... I'm just pretending, this is all just a big game of make-believe. It's unfair of me to think that I'd play a bigger role in certain individuals lives. Some sort of malicious egotistical thought process fathomed up by a boy that doesn't matter too much.

I finally caved in tonight, hoping to see some sort of happiness or social interaction by logging back in to the virtual halls of the interwebs. I look for signs that may have noticed I was gone, there are none. Life moves on, forever on and on. People that used to play a huge role in my life now continue their story without me in it at all, only a vague memory of a time that once was. Whether this is for better or worse, I couldn't tell you. I'd want to believe the former, though my brain would present heaps of evidence to the latter.

The process is always the same. I justify myself logging back into the confines of cyberspace through many reasons, but always have one stipulation I give myself. A stipulation that I always fail at upholding. I allow myself access to this social network, in the hopes that it helps my sense of emptiness, by promising myself not to look into the lives of people I've been jealous of in the past or brilliant women that I've loved/still love.

I always fail.

Unable to resist the urge to pry into the world outside of my own, these people have seemingly great lives. They're all moving on without the weight of me in their life. Even if it's not someone that's been at the forefront of my life, I see happy babies and smiling photos of couples. New houses or cars populate the stream of information regurgitation piping into my sight.

Despite me trying to seem calm, collected, cool about not getting text messages or call outs from the people I care about... it's fucking devastating. Some part of my brain thinks that people will eventually realize that the great and admirable Brett is missing from their daily interaction and send me a lifeline. It's been over a week since I've gotten any correspondence from the people I really want to hear from.

A fraction of me wants to reach out and ask, why? Why am I not worth the time? Was I just that much of an emotional drain? Are you that much better without me in your life?

The gall I have to think I should matter to anyone anyway. You have your boyfriends and spouses, why do you need a whiny me in your life? You don't. No one does. This always happens and it always causes a spiraling out of the somewhat bearable airspace of contentedness. I see life going on without me and it strikes a very loud realization every time.

Even if I were to end my life, life would still go on for others. How would I be remembered anyway? Probably as the "nice guy" that was always the beta male uncertain of his social status, always in his own head.

What I would give to be content and not have to pretend to be okay all the time. I pretend even now. Writing this, MAYBE ten pretend people will read it. Does that justify the effort? Does it even give me any solace from my own pain? Out of those ten people that read this, is one of them who I really want to know how I feel? Does it even matter how I feel? If not to her, him, them... then to me?

Out of everyone else that may or may not care about Brett, you think that the person that should at least care a little bit is the one inhabiting the vessel of Brett. Nope, not right now.

Life goes on with or without me walking around in it. To me it seems most people have more productive and healthy lives when I keep my distance and fade into the white noise of the supporting cast.