I didn’t notice it at first.
It all seemed so innocent,
I didn’t know I was developing a thirst.
Like me, love me, find my words appealing.
Laugh at my jokes and don’t look too deep at the pain I am concealing.
The other day I posted this picture and was amazed at the reception. Like after like after like until I had bought into the deception.
Even though you saw this picture of all of me, arms and all, and you actually liked it, that doesn’t affirm me or make me whole.
When you read my blog and I watch the number of readers rise and fall like waves, you don’t define me.
When you subtweet me and unfriend me, you don’t define me.
You’re hiding behind your phone and I’m hiding behind mine. I’m begging you to see me, and type an encouraging line.
I wait and wait and refresh and come back. There is no one today. Yesterday there were hundreds.
I’m ok. You don’t define me, internet.
You don’t get to affect my mood.
You don’t have that right.
Girls, your followers aren’t your self image squad. They can’t give you What You Need.
Your hashtags won’t bring the attention off of which you feed.
Find your home in Christ. Find your fame in him.
Lose yourself to find yourself and tell me how you feel then.
You may have sold your soul to the internet, but He bought you with a price.
Let him win you back, and forget about the likes.