This is a featured piece written by Seni Joshua © All rights reserved.
They’re the Millennials. The Gen-Zs. The Instagram, Facebook and Snapchat generation.
A nation that would rather go viral than be vital.
It’s funny how we never connect going viral to a virus’s M.O.
One that promises us connection but separates us farther than our two nostrils whilst breathing in the aroma that strengthens our belief in our illusions.
Viral. Going viral. Getting disconnected whilst saying we aren’t.
Chasing things that are designed to make us do just that. Chase. Chase to make someone else’s buck. Chase whilst forgetting what really matters.
Because matter is anything that has mass and space and we’ve made seeking the space between ourselves more important and thus we make it grow and grow unending.
Desperately wallowing in the deniability of our actions and so to replace, emulate and/or simulate what should take precedence, what should come first, what should matter the most,
We. Go. Viral.
Spreading falsehoods about our lives because we’d rather people think we have it all together and we’re living awesome lives than to be vulnerable, honest, open and willing to let someone in.
We choose to go viral spreading the virus of the Validation exchange market where the currency is your body, your privacy, your life, and the consumers, unforgiving, vicious, savage, numbers in the thousands.
Go viral at your own risk, sully your hands, scald your minds for the 15 mins of fame that’s always cut down to 5 and join the rest of the fallen.
The fallen who spasm from validation withdrawals as their lifeline’s been cut and their resistance to the stark reality of the cavalcade called their life which was boosted by the pills they popped, the needles they stuck, the white lines they crossed has been shattered.
A lifeline that has been whittled away by the very same people that blew them kisses of unending love.
It starts with “Do you wanna be famous?” Do you wanna be a star?
You can, without stressing, without waiting years…you can!
What’s your dignity compared to the façade of love you’d get from millions who’d pay to see your shadow.
It costs nothing…not much really.
A little dignity, contentment and mental stability.
What does that matter when you can ask the question “Do you know who I am?” And watch them cower in their boots whilst “feigning” indifference……not.
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