The semester after my college boyfriend broke up with me, I was very depressed. As in, didn't-leave-the-apartment-for-two-weeks-and-failed-half-my-classes depressed. That summer, my parents had given me a computer for my birthday. It was the first time I'd had internet access in my own room. It was dialup, of course, and it drove my roommate crazy because I'd tie up the line for hours. I was too embarrassed to explain to her that Instant Messenger had become my primary coping mechanism. It felt like...not a lifeline exactly, because a lot of the time I wasn't talking to anyone. It felt more like a window. I could peer through and see a room full of people I cared about. I could choose socialization or solitude, depending on my mood. If I didn't feel like chatting, it was still comforting just to watch my Friends list, as people bobbed on & off throughout the night. It served as a visual reminder that those people existed and that life was continuing around me, even if I wasn't ready to participate for more than a few minutes at a time.
This is a really circumlocutory way of saying that I've been on Twitter pretty much constantly these past few months.
2 comments:
good parenting! I could still use a lesson in turning seething rage into a functional, articulate statement of emotion.
K
It's starting to bother me that I can't just drag & drop this comment to the post you intended to comment on. Oh well.
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