Us, Colliding

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The following day I was tired thanks to my stupid brain, I mostly sprawled out on my dad's sofa losing myself in social media.

Dad had left early for work but I noticed two new packs of coco pops on the breakfast bar, I decided to try some - they were pretty good, if chocolate is your thing.

Dad left a note saying I should listen to The End of the World As We Know It by REM so I do.

Dad's fond of little written notes, I realise.
He could text me, but he doesn't. I think I like that - it feels more personal.

I sit and munch on my coco pops, trawling social media.

Isn't it weird that we call it social media but it's probably the least social thing you can do? You literally sit staring at a screen and ignore the world around you, sharing your life with total strangers and what... hoping for some sort of validation or a connection? 

I can't imagine making a true connection over the internet; I know plenty of people do, but I don't know anyone who has actually made it last.

Is it just luck? Or are they sort of people who can get on with anyone and everyone in real life anyway?

I don't know. I do it too, I mean, we all do – or most of us. I'm not judging as such but I do wonder what it is people hope to achieve by laying their lives and opinions out for the world to judge.

I knew a girl at school who sent naked pictures to a guy who promptly shared them with the whole student body. That sucked more because she got slut-shamed for sending the images but he didn't get any kind of comeuppance for distributing them.

I can't imagine sending naked pictures to anyone unless I really loved and trusted them and I certainly don't see that happening anytime soon, we'd have to make a massive connection and in case you hadn't noticed that's not something I'm great at.

I head over to Instagram and upload a couple of pictures I've taken since I arrived, one of the sunset and one of the big movie screen at the drive through cinema.

I have a new follower request and I'm not at all surprised to see it's Neri.

Neri's feed is different to mine, which is chaotic. I just post what I want, when I want. My account is private because I got sick of random people DMing me, there's a whole bunch of weirdoes out there, I can tell you. I don't post to please, I post for me. It's the one place where I don't care what people think of me. I'm not sure why that is, social media is pretty fake I guess. I don't know. 

Neri has a whole aesthetic going on – pinky hues and stunning landscapes, there's a couple of selfies too, she looks beautiful, of course, but there's nothing personal on there – the account could belong to anyone and once again I wonder about who she truly is.

My phone pings with a new DM and I see it's from her.

"Hi, what are you doing?" she asks.

"Nothing, eating coco pops."

"You're eating MY coco pops?!"

"Finders keepers, losers' weepers."

Neri posts a sad face.

"You OK today?" I ask.

"Yeah, sorry about yesterday – I had a lot on."

"That's OK."
"There's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, do you wanna check it out?" she asks me.

I stare at my phone screen, my eyes flick over to Neri's profile photo where she's lying on a paddle board in the middle of the clear ocean - her life is worlds apart from mine.

"Sure," I reply after a while.

I need to step back from all of this. I need to treat this like the holiday it is – stop stressing about how I'm feeling and spending hours on introspection.

"Excellent!" Neri replies with some love heart emojis.

I don't say anything to that; I just munch on some more coco pops.

"You still there?" Neri types after a while.

"Yeah, I'm just thinking," I reply.

"What about?"

Obviously I can't tell her that I think she has secrets or that she's faking her happiness or that I think social media is kind of dumb.

"Just about life."

"What about it?"

"It's weird."

"You're weird."

Neri's not wrong.

I don't say anything.

"It's ok, I'm weird too," she states after a while.

I send a smiley face.

"See you later tonight?" Neri asks.

I give her a thumbs up.

"See you later, weirdo," she says.

"See you later," I reply.