People in my alleged “community” keep acting like they’re my friends. They tell other people they’re my friends. They smile, they hug, they say all the right bullshit — but they are not my friends. Not even close. Let me give you some examples:There’s that one guy who’s constantly performing excitement like his life depends on it. Everything is “amazing,” “awesome,” or “so cool.” I swear the dude would announce he just took the best shit of his life if you gave him half a chance. It’s exhausting.
Then there’s the phone guy. Eyes glued to the screen, thumb scrolling like it’s oxygen. The second you try to talk to him he lets out this irritated little sigh, like you personally ruined his entire day by existing near him.
And the others? Christ. They light up when they first see me — big fake smiles, “Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you!”, like I’m some kind of celebrity. Two sentences in, their eyes glaze over. You can actually watch the interest drain out of their faces. They start looking around for someone else, anyone else, who might be less boring than me.
The church crowd is the worst. They do the exact same routine every single time. You’re the most important person in the world for the first ten seconds. Then the second you say something real — something that isn’t on their stupid little approved script — they shut down. Polite nods, vacant smiles, and suddenly they’re backing away like I’m contagious.
Don’t even get me started on the yes-men. They’ll agree with every single thing I say, nodding like bobbleheads with these big cheerful grins. “Totally!” “You’re so right!” It’s the fakest shit I’ve ever heard. I could tell them I worship Satan and eat babies and they’d still hit me with “Amen, brother!”
I’m done pretending.
These people aren’t my friends. They’re apparitions. Empty fucking shells walking around in human skin, saying the lines, hitting the marks, but there’s nobody home. No real connection. No real care. Just performance. Just noise.
Every time I’m around them I feel more alone than when I’m actually by myself.I see them clearly now, and it makes me sick.
They’re not my friends.
They never were.
And I’m fucking tired of acting like they are.
Then there’s the phone guy. Eyes glued to the screen, thumb scrolling like it’s oxygen. The second you try to talk to him he lets out this irritated little sigh, like you personally ruined his entire day by existing near him.
And the others? Christ. They light up when they first see me — big fake smiles, “Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you!”, like I’m some kind of celebrity. Two sentences in, their eyes glaze over. You can actually watch the interest drain out of their faces. They start looking around for someone else, anyone else, who might be less boring than me.
The church crowd is the worst. They do the exact same routine every single time. You’re the most important person in the world for the first ten seconds. Then the second you say something real — something that isn’t on their stupid little approved script — they shut down. Polite nods, vacant smiles, and suddenly they’re backing away like I’m contagious.
Don’t even get me started on the yes-men. They’ll agree with every single thing I say, nodding like bobbleheads with these big cheerful grins. “Totally!” “You’re so right!” It’s the fakest shit I’ve ever heard. I could tell them I worship Satan and eat babies and they’d still hit me with “Amen, brother!”
I’m done pretending.
These people aren’t my friends. They’re apparitions. Empty fucking shells walking around in human skin, saying the lines, hitting the marks, but there’s nobody home. No real connection. No real care. Just performance. Just noise.
Every time I’m around them I feel more alone than when I’m actually by myself.I see them clearly now, and it makes me sick.
They’re not my friends.
They never were.
And I’m fucking tired of acting like they are.
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