It doesn’t have a title. Let me know if you can figure out what it means. :)
The sound of glass
crushed between sole and frame
echoes—images, torn from once-holy shrines,
transform from idol to effigy.
Though past ecstasy begets new agony,
the passion is all but unchanged;
the fallen goddess, vilified,
is worshipped all the same.
For those of us that were alive and aware of the world before the internet caught on and became something that the everyone was a part of, there was kind of a depressing shock as we realized that almost all the stuff we thought was unique to us is common and it’s quite easy to find people who do, say, or think similar things.
Oh, you mean your family has that tradition too?
Oh, you mean my dad didn’t make that phrase up?
Oh, you mean when you were a kid you thought the same thing about the same cartoon character?
Ohhhh, you mean you used to think what I think now, and then you grew out of it?
Blerg. What a depressingly humbling thing the internet has become for us.
But then I think, So what is it like to grow up with the internet, and know that you’re not a special snowflake?
I don’t judge you all so harshly for your mopey, pathetic ennui anymore, you silly little Millenials, you. You’ve grown up, for your whole thinking life, under the inescapable, undeniable weight of how unique you’re not, because your main communication medium constantly reminds you of it.
Man, the internet is depressing when you think about it. Ugh. I’m gonna go use Microsoft Word or something. I promise this existential crisis will be cured in the morning… at least, I think it will… for a while.