Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the tag “social media”

Attention Whore

sick

from drinking the poison

spoon fed to you

facebook

twitter

instagram

snapchat

feed your attention whoring self

on the crumbs they throw you

likes

hearts

retweets

you gorge yourself

choking on it

a cock you’re sucking

like a teat

to feed your narcissistic ways

all the while

turning your heart black

the osmosis

of social media rot

permeates your sense of self

while your mind shrivels

to the size of pea

neurons firing

the adoration of those who don’t even know you

pinging the pleasure centers

of your brain

spread your legs wide

wider

let them all see

what a dirty little cunt you are

and just what you’ll do for

attention

 

 

Pick, Pick, Pick

prometheus

 

 

I think I’ve reached my breaking point with everything–this blog, Twitter, Facebook.

It’s like all of them only continue to prove to me, that I’m less than everyone else.

I’m not as good a writer as all these other people.

I’m not as funny as these other people.

I don’t fit in.

I stand out.

I’m too smart.

I’m not smart enough.

I’m too liberal.

I’m not fearful enough of absolutely every fucking thing around me.

NOT GOOD ENOUGH

NOT GOOD ENOUGH

NOT GOOD ENOUGH

That’s what all of it screams.

As I compare follower numbers, and likes, and retweets.

You know, I remember a time, not so long ago, when I liked myself.

I thought I was a pretty cool chick.

I thought I was well read, and creative, and attractive, and funny.

And then social media crept in.

And now I don’t feel those things anymore.

I feel constantly judged for everything I post, or re-post, or comment.

It’s like I’m Prometheus, atop a social media rock, and my self-esteem is constantly being picked at, until one day there will be nothing left.

Am I meant to suffer this torture?

It’s all at my own hand.

I can end it. I can leave all of these places and escape back into the real world.

Read real books.

Talk to real people.

Write on real pages.

I DON’T NEED YOUR APPROVAL!

I DON’T NEED YOUR APPROVAL!

I DON’T NEED YOUR APPROVAL!

Oh yes, you do, I whisper to myself in the mirror.

 

 

 

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