The closest I ever got to dying was dropping my phone. It shattered on the pavement outside my house and has rendered me unable to contact anyone. I was royally pissed off for the obvious reason that my phone was broken. My social media apps had already just been disabled prior to this, but I fretted “oh god people will text me and I won’t receive it because my phone is broken”. Given that there was no immediate solution to my problem, however, I just simply ceased communication with the outside world and kept my iPad messages open.
I went about my life and returned home day after day only to find that, generally speaking, no one I talk to once or twice a week had texted me. No “hi” no “what’s up.” Nothing. It’s not that my feelings were hurt. Obviously they knew I wasn’t dead, or at least they would like to assume I wasn’t, but I got to thinking “Wow, if I were to jump ship, change names and book it to Vegas tonight, no one would even notice I was gone. ” More of an existential realization than a depressive thought of self-loathing, but it truly brought new meaning to ego suppression.
If I were actually physically missing for a more prolongued amount of time, concern would likely be raised. But then what? Well everyone’s life’s would eventually calibrate to adjust to my absence. And why wouldn’t they?
To clarify, no one really cares about you. Better put, not everyone can care about you as equally as you would like to believe . Your family may be a life raft that keeps your delusions afloat, but all of your acquaintances, as comfortable as you make yourself around them, can only be as close as arms length will allow. In the end, we all want to save our skin. and maybe we have enough extra room in our egos for one or two extra people.
People disappear and we acclimate. We can’t wonder “what ever happened to that person I kind of knew” about everyone who enters and leaves our lives, because life just goes on. That’s why we get so uncomfortable when we see that girl we had that project with in tenth grade in the Starbucks line, because we know theoretically we should speak and ask how she’s doing but we also are cognizant of the fact that we really truly don’t care. Aside from that one period in that one class, we couldn’t be more divergent.
In a world of technology there are so many ways to discreetly eat a bullet. But if you deactivate your Twitter today, no one is going to miss you. I use “no one will” in a broad, universal-entropy type way. Our lives can’t stop simply because an entity we are accustomed to disappears. This doesn’t discredit social media. Considering how much of my life has been altered my it, I’m the last person to preach the nihilistic viewpoint that nothing matters. What I am saying is actually maybe positive: we don’t have to sweat our social presences so hard, because everyone is sweating theirs.
On that same token, I could spare myself a lot of heartache by avoiding people’s accomplishments online and allowing them to remind me of my failures in life. I’d love to never get my phone fixed. I have an appointment for them to revive the thing, but until then I get to be dead for 2 weeks and I’m finally fucking free.