There's this girl I used to know. She's kinda short, kinda fat, and kinda nice in a nice way. She likes her school, loves her friends, and never hesitates to give if she can. Her hair is curly, her eyes are green, and her skin is freckled and pale.
She tends to zone out in the middle of public, and she comes off as clumsy. She makes corny jokes and acts kinda stupid. But I know and she knows that the stupid act is just what it is, an act for the slight shits and giggles it gets out of her friends.
She sits at the computer all day. She loses herself in that digital world day in and day out. Hours have been wasted upon this girl. But she doesn't care. The internet is her friend.
Does the internet keep you warm? I can't help but ask her. Yes, she replies. It keeps me warm. Does the internet let you have friends? I have to try again. All my friends are located right here. I can talk to them without getting out of my chair. She smiles at me, beaming with her pride as she shows me a well known social site. 165 friends I see she has. But how many of those has she seen in person all summer long?
Can the internet feed you? Clothe you? Give you a bed to sleep in? I bend over her shoulder to peer at the site she's on. Does it give you enough stimulation to actually be able to interact with other people well? Do the regular shitfits keep you intelligent? I can't help my attack on the internet.
It cannot feed me, it cannot clothe me, nor can I sleep on it; But it lets me live my life the way I want. It does not judge, nor does it tease. It is alright by me. See, I can go places and interact with people I would never be able to reach before. But with the travel aide of my computer, all of their lives are just a click of the mouse away.
I can feed myself, and I can clothe myself. I even have a bed upstairs. And if it weren't for the man sleeping on the couch, that's where I'd be. She tells me in a slightly flat, slightly distracted voice.
There's this girl I used to know. She's funny and she's smart. She's annoying and she's stupid. She has her ups and she has her downs. She likes her school and loves her friends. She likes fall, winter and spring but not summer. She has 50 odd people all living in her head, and more keep moving in.
Hour after hour she pours into her friend. And each and every day it becomes more real to her. Every day she gets off, she feels dissatisfied with herself. What she doesn't realize is that feeling is from the life she left behind.
There's this girl I used to know. And that girl was me.
