Disclaimer: it’s supposed to be tsu, with a little macron over the u, but too bad.
I’ve hated Facebook for a long time but I spend too much of my life there. Most of us do. And as time goes on, there are more & more ads, no longer confined to the sides of the interface but now even clogging up our newsfeeds. And this is after the updated Timeline format which makes just a single post take up your entire fricking monitor so that you can no longer get an overview of what your friends are doing, but are instead forced to have only a single (or sometimes 1.5) post – super big & in your face – at a time. And then there have been all the privacy disrespects. Yes, I’m using a verb as a noun, & Facebook is the inspiration for this. There’s poetry in that, but let’s talk about Tsu.
Tsu is another social platform, in its infancy. Here’s a screenie of what the general interface looks like:
Yeah yeah… I’m in a bad mood. And I probably dropped a bunch of displaced anger on this guy because I’m dealing with a full-on Narcissistic Personality Disorder jerkface for a few more weeks. But I mean it – when you end a friendship, if it ever had anything real to it, you say something to the other person. Say goodbye, for chrissakes. If you don’t, then you’re chickenshit. Sorry, no other word for it. Chickenshit.
It’s been a rough few weeks. Financial disasters, relational disappointments, antagonism from a coworker, social isolation, doom. There’s not really anyone to talk to, not because of a lack of people who care, but rather a lack of people I feel like talking to. The one person I feel might understand has gone away. I know I’ll slowly work my way through this, but overall I’ve felt like I’m slipping back into that old depression. I’ve spoken with my therapists; we go over practical care & solutions. A whole bunch of things I have no motivation to go through the motions of. I might be back to that kind of life where existence comes down to just taking one step, then taking one more.
What’s interesting is a little bit of self esteem, a little gift, that my mind keeps returning to. I was at a fundraiser; one of those snotty $100-$200 per head dinners all the private school kids go to when they’re grown up. There was a table of whores with their pimp, & I thought one of them was one of the most gorgeous girls I’d ever seen in her elegantly elaborate ballgown. My boyfriend’s best friend had brought a date; a beautiful girl who remembered me from high school. We’d met briefly in 9th grade; she’d only been there a little while, but she recognized me & said hello. We ended up at different tables, but later on my boyfriend told me that she had told his buddy that when we were in 9th grade, I was the only person who was nice to her, & she’d never forgotten it.
I keep thinking about that. Makes me smile. I don’t know what it means, after I’ve saved lives, helped dying to the door, acted with honor in spite of abuse, sacrificed for others. The only thing I remember, to warm myself, is that. I don’t know what it means to only remember that. Why has that become the only thing I’ve got?