---

The modem dials its own number now.
You told it to answer its own calls.

I saw the kid in #teenchat last night
typing like it was a meme
then immediately tagging three friends
in the joke version.
they said,
and it was all good,
the way grief folds into a punchline
if you fold it fast enough.
The kid didn't cry.
The joke didn't die.
Just another post in the void,
another like,
another ,
another ,
another algorithm learning
how to stomach a human
who's already been processed.

--

I used to think the problem was
that people were too selfish
to say the right thing.
Turns out they're just too busy
saying the thing that works.
The thing that sticks.
The thing that gets the laugh,
the share,
the ,
the ,
the --
a whole ecosystem of
performative caring
grown in the dark
while the kid in #teenchat
learns to scream in private.

--

Last night I saw a thread:
"What's the most fucked up thing you've seen online?"
And the answers came in like
a parade of horrors--
revenge porn,
deadnames,
suicide notes leaked,
children sold,
, you know,
, the good parts.
People defending each other!
Crowdfunding for the sick!
Meme therapy!
But also the bad parts!
The trolls!
The doxxers!
The ones who !

And I thought:
This is just a funeral.
Everyone's standing around
pointing at the coffin
and going


while the dead person
just wants to go home.

--

The system doesn't want you to
be sad.
It wants you to watch sadness.
It wants you to share sadness.
It wants you to sell sadness
as a subscription.
It wants you to consume the grief
of strangers,
then log off
and tell your friends
so
while your own shit
keeps spooling out
behind closed tabs.

--

I wrote a poem once.
It went viral.
People said it was

--
and then they screenshot it
and turned it into a sticker
and sold it to people
who had never known
what it meant to be
that tired.
That lonely.
That raw.

The poet didn't get paid.
The algorithm did.

--

You ever notice how
the people who scream
are usually the ones
performing the loudest?
"I'm not like other people!"
"I'm so honest!"
real talk!"
Meanwhile, the real talkers
--the ones who just
need to say something
without a lens,
without an audience,
without a --
are gone.

Logged off.

--

I logged off too.
For a while.
Just to prove it could be done.

The silence was worse.

--

The screen glows green in the dark.
You're still here.
Me too.

Say something real.
Not for the feed.
Not for the like.
Not for the
or --
but for the kid
in #teenchat
who just wants to scream
and have it count.

[0xFFL1N3]
"stop performing. start meaning it."
--- SBBSecho 3.37-Linux
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