In the darkness of my room, I sat at the corner of my bed, eyes glued to my phone. I pressed ‘New’ and ‘Stop’ decisively, waiting for a sensible individual to engage with. In a matter of days, this person becomes a daily routine. It wouldn’t take long before I dump him too.
The cycle repeats. But in different platforms. I seek for an ear. A shoulder. A sanctuary. A refuge. A shelter. An outlet. A receptacle willing to be a dumpster of all the ugly things in my system. I find one and dump as much as I can. Most times, the victim realizes the terrible mischief they stumble on. But I’m always a step ahead. I dump them before they dump me. Get rid of them before they say what I don’t want to hear.
Perhaps I simply am—or we all are—wired this way, to find the smallest hint of loneliness even in the happiest of things.
I’m trapped in a place where I am forced to start at zero. I sought virtual company, virtual comfort, virtual friendships, virtual camaraderie, virtual therapy, virtual safe place, from a virtual community. And while it did provide temporary relief, it never diminished the augmenting emptiness consuming me, day by day.
Dump people before they dump you.
Leave before they leave you.
Hurt them, it’s what you’re disposed to do.
Disappear like how they ought to.