Take a look at me fellas,
I wear a beautiful dress adorned in
profiles and passwords,
Full of pixels and poses,
Oh, do you see tiny bits of me?
They are interwoven
With feeds, timelines and stories
that even after vanishing after 24 hours,
seem to live forever in my subconscious.
Take a look at me on LinkedIn;
I'm looking like bullet points and polished smiles,
I’ve decorated my posts with
the wins without failing
To crop out the failures.
And check me out on Instagram,
I shine like the Sun,
I am the brunch and I bring
The exact kind of laughter that fits in a Multicoloured square.
Have you seen me on WhatsApp,
Of course, I am that “last seen” ghost
who replies late but is always online.
I am the one that brings so much fun,
the one that sounds so deep,
the ever successful one on my status,
the “always-okay” one.
These are different spaces with different faces.
Same soul,
but so scattered.
We curate.
We crop.
We give captions
We control the angles so craftily.
Because in here,
we are our own PR managers.
We carefully manage the mess
so it looks like intimidating magic.
But most times,
I wonder if we have actually forgotten
that the soft, unposted moments
are the realest.
The face we see in the bathroom mirror
before the light hits in our face.
The laugh that doesn’t in any way match the caption.
The tears with no filter.
Maybe, we are more than the versions
we allow people to tap on.
Maybe, the realest me
is the one that this internet doesn’t know
and can’t seem to save.
And maybe,
just maybe,
that’s exactly how it should be.
Thanks for reading me💜
