7 Pathetic People Scattered in Social Media

7 Pathetic People Scattered in Social Media

You’ve created an account in social media and started to participate in the social pool to meet a whole lot of different personalities. Congratulations, for like me, you’ve finally decided to step out of your cave and avail a dose of “modern civilization”…. So let me walk you through this whole new jungle called the social media and warn you about the 7 people you’ll surely meet along the way..

1. People who share their private and intimate stuff in public which no one understands because it’s contextual and no one really cares about it because it’s personal. ‪#‎fad‬

2. People posting how they are too busy that they don’t have a life–and yet, amazingly, have the time to post about that. ‪#‎frontAct‬

3. People in love rubbing their relationship on everybody’s faces like they are the least miserable ones. Fine, you’re the sweetest couple on earth. Ok already. ‪#‎thefeeelss‬

4. People who think they are naturally beautiful and post their “prettiest” photo after taking a hundred selfies on Camera 360 and put hashtags implying they woke up with that look. ‪#‎fake‬

5. People who broadcast every little detail about their pathetic existence–from whining about a nail polish color to ranting about a random experience and everything in between. ‪#‎facade‬

6. People who do what everyone else does just so they don’t fall out of fashion and are not left out. Then brag it to the world like they’re the only one who has or does it. ‪#‎fool‬

7. Lastly, people who purposefully hit the LIKE button on others’ posts in the hopes that they’ll return the favor. Kind of like fishing for Likes. Yikes.‪#‎fastidious‬

And there you have it. You never know you might be one of them someday. Or you already are one of them now. But the only sure thing is you’ll meet one or two of these. And yes, you’re welcome.

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I’m Fine, And You?

“I’m Fine”
It’s one of the most well-fabricated lie that not only you buy into, but also sell to others.
“I’m fine.”
That’s your default statement when someone superficially (or even sincerely) asks how you’re doing.
“I’m fine,” you say.
It’s not because you are the kind of texture that is opposite to rough—as the word “fine” denotes. It’s because you don’t want others to know how rough your day has been. Or how roughly imperfect your life is. So you say,
“I’m fine.”
I’m fine. Embedded in this two-word sentence is an infinite unspoken sentiments you don’t want others to know. Sometimes you say “I’m fine,” just to stop the person from asking how well you’re doing because the truth is, you’re NOT doing “well” at all. So you say, “I’m fine” even though inside you’re hurting. You say you’re “fine” even though you’re dying to be heard what’s bothering you. You’re “fine” because no one cares enough to know what is not making you fine at all.
You say…
“I’m fine…”
When you actually mean is…
“I’m having more troubles that I can handle, and my life is a mess. I don’t know what to do. I’m devastated. But there’s nothing you can do to help me or stop the pain. There’s nothing more you can do or say except to ask if “everything’s fine.” I’ll save you the trouble of asking. Stop you from even going to the worry-zone. That is, if you actually are worrying. I don’t want you to think I’m weak or weird. I want you to picture me as someone who is “cool” and “strong.” I want to imprint in your tiny little head that I am the kind of person who has it altogether. That I don’t need your help. That I don’t need your sympathy because no one is really truly sympathetic. Sympathy is a human error—apathy is what we are best at. So I’ll let you foolishly think that I have everything under control when in fact panic overwhelms me and it has ME under control. You don’t need to see this side of me that is crumbling into pieces because I’m SO.NOT.FINE. Besides, I don’t really see that sincerity in your eyes to say that you’re even interested in my hell of a life when you ask me how I’m doing. And even IF you are interested—I said, IF—I don’t want to drag you into my Calvary because I know you have a Calvary of your own that’s dragging you way down. You have enough problems to solve yourself. So trying to fix me is like a withered-winged bird trying to help a drowning fish. I want you to have that idea of me as a person who is his/her own man. Or woman. I don’t need you to be troubled by MY troubles and anxieties. And do not even think for one second that you can just crush this great big wall I’ve painstakingly built around me. So I won’t tell you what’s killing me inside. I’ll just leave you a simple answer that would suffice your attempt to make a conversation and make you feel you don’t suck at it. We both just want one thing anyway—to get these pleasantries over with. And probably get past each other’s expectation of ‘small talk.’ So we can move forward and talk about things that really matter—like, the weather. But never ever dare to make personal inquiries about me and what’s gripping my heart at every beat. And yeah, this IS my way of saying…
I’M FINE.”
I’m fine. How about you?

The Wall

I have always wanted to be your friend, always wanted to break that wall that separates your world from mine. I realized I wasn’t only interested of being your friend, but I know wishing too much is being too greedy already. So I just kept on wishing and thinking if there are ways in which I can penetrate through that great vast wall between you and me, only to realize that you’re not interested.

Knocking endlessly, I was the crooked, creepy stranger outside your door. Though I know you found me all annoying, still I kept on pursuing. I thought of climbing over, digging under, and even go round about that giant wall just to have the chance to enter to your barred domain. When in desperate attempt I tried everything I thought would work, you came along and opened the backdoor to let me in. I thought you chose the back because you were too ashamed to let other people know you let someone undeserving like me enter your premises. But i was wrong–you never intended to open the door for me at all. I came to know that you opened that tiny door for something else. But I was determined to get through, oblivious of the foreboding consequences lurking over me.

I was so big and the backdoor was so small that it took great effort to push myself in. I was too impetuos to get in that i didnt think of anything else aside from entering the passage so freely opened before me. I was too rash to know that it wasn’t opened for me so I thrust myself in, anyway. Regardless of my unfitness, I conquered the task laid out before me with so great a risk of either breaking the wall, or breaking myself. The odds I was fighting agaisnt should never be underestimated in this so vulnerable a moment and so slim a chance.

However impassable it may seem, I manage to get through just in time to see the hope gleaming into my fog-shrouded soul. From the depths of despair, I struggled to inhale the air of ecstasy. I hold my breath, not wanting to ruin the breathless moment of my life–I was drinking in the sight of the brightest star in my moonless night. Just as my preoccupied mind never fail to be fascinated and be mesmerized by your presence, I started to feel the cold ghastly air solidifying into a hard lump churning in my stomach. I stood there, motionless. Almost invariably, I watched and waited for the light of that beautiful smile I had always wanted to flash before me. The foolish part of my heart was shouting, wishing, and even begging for the sign of happiness to show in your face as it proudly shows in mine.

The defeaning silence struck like a fist into my gut, forcing me to choke out the words I know I would soon regret to have said.
“Am I welcome?”
I was still waiting… Dead silence filled the room. I was almost slipping away behind the wall of silence and indifference as your painful words left unspoken hangs in every fiber of my being, their invisible weight oppresive enough to drag me down into the deepest nook of the earth. I was helpless to stop the inevitable rejection smirking sardonically beyond those unopened lips. The next words stopped me cold.
“who said you were?”
My eyes found yours unerringly in the gloom. Your eyes narrowed, my countenance fell. I suppose I had been too proud to listen to the thoughts I had previously conceived. But those thoughts I erroneously rejected are the very same thoughts that could have saved me from the terrible pang of regret, had I chose to listen to it. I listened as the throbbings of my heart echoed the regrets i have accumulated through time–regret for the things that might have been, but never would be. I tried to shut the words, tried to detach myself from the throb of remorse reverberating in my chest. I smiled–probably the worst faked smile the world has ever known. But it didn’t make me feel any better nor did it make me feel less alone. My life was falling apart the same moment when I hoped that that wall should have fallen instead. Finally, I did the best thing I could have done that was left for me to do at that moment–I walked away. Slowly pacing, I drag my feet noiselessly towards the door in which I compelled myself to enter right from the start. This time the door wasn’t as small as it had appeared to be the ment I forcefully entered in. I raised my head to see how far and wide the door seemed to hold itself as wide as possible for me to find my way out. It was as easy and effortless for me to get out as it had been the other way around when I tried to get in. Before I took my last step, I turned to look back on you and hoped for a wave of goodbye. But even that last gesture I wished to see you heartlessly deprived me of. I nod and continued treading on my way out of that darkened realm of unforgettable past.

The Letter I Wish I Received

Dear Elementary Pupils,

Please don’t take your Math lessons lightly. Pay careful attention to your teacher when he’s teaching you how to solve the freaking fractions which you thought aren’t as important as knowing how to divide a pizza among hungry friends. Don’t ignore the lessons you learned about how to convert fractions to decimals and percentage or vice versa when you reach the age when you think dollar conversion is of much importance. Don’t neglect your lessons on how to calculate your father’s age and/or the average of you and your siblings’ ages because they make sense in building relationships, really. Don’t discard your memory of how you solved the measure of distance and speed of a vehicle when you’re at the point of your life wherein all you wanted is how to own a car and break the speed limit.

Love,
Me