It will rob you of something intricate. In your desperation to be watched, to be remembered, the catastrophic amount of stress you will experience from the urge to impress will swallow you, it will turn you into a shell of who you used to be.
People will stay acquaintances because it’s safer that way, and because it becomes harder to have conversations when you’re used to hiding behind a screen. Social anxiety is a euphemism we made up so we could sound special instead of broken, because we won’t admit we broke ourselves.
We started caring too much about the wrong things, about celebrities whose lives consisted of shallow superficial highs that we pretended to be uninterested in but only because we know we could never afford it. The perverse satisfaction of knowing you have a little more than others, it will turn you. You will become difficult and unpleasant to be around.
You start to suffer for the wrong reasons. Pretending to be happy because it feels good to have others think you are perfect, no matter what is really happening behind closed doors. You start to become proud of how well you hide the ugly truth. Your image starts to become more important than your soul.
You forget how to love and start to believe it was just a way to sell Valentines Day cards to the naive. You mistake his dangerous obsession for gentle infatuation and convince yourself that masterful manipulation is just a cleverer way of caring. But it’s also the greatest indicator of his capacity for violence. He’s the type to leave cities in ruins.
You think empathy is for the weak. You mock the less fortunate or feign compassion depending on the circumstances. You know you worked hard for everything you have, so you start to believe they must deserve their suffering. You scoff at the insinuation of a privileged life, you forget it’s all relative.
You start to look down on people who are not necessarily less intelligent, nor less hard working, but simply less fortunate. You discuss people by listing their accomplishments and assets, because that’s the most interesting thing about them. You become dull and petty, incapable of having a meaningful conversation.
You die a slow death long before you stop breathing.