There are loads of people who wag their condescending fingers at those who take selfies and throw them around on the Internet. But take it from someone who is there more often than not: there's a heap of blues behind the smile, the cleavage, the duck lips.
Regret, anger, sadness, panic, loathing - they all keep piling up on me; adding to this paralyzing sense of inadequacy. On the outside I might look like I'm holding it down. Believe me, every cell in my body has disintegrated into jello. Every inch of my soul wants nothing more than to erase time and find myself again. I've made a goal in life to keep my mind in a place of understanding, rather than judgement. I also think this is a lot of the reason that I've been feeling the way that I do lately. Instead of focusing on the fact that I'm doing the right thing and the thing that I know that I should be doing, I hold onto the memory of what I thought I knew to be true.
Lots of selfies are the creation of people wishing they could crawl inside a carefully created self-portrait of themselves. To live forever in a frozen moment where they appeared to be fine.
Solace comes in strange ways. Sometimes all it takes is seeing your own picture lit up on a screen to feel OK again, if only for a few seconds. Sometimes it's the arms of a complete stranger; anything to feel the familiar burn and tingle of forgetting the world for awhile.
It's entirely possible when you're down and out to numb certain very real pains with anything and everything that feels right in the moment; and if you can't relate then I'd consider you to have won the emotional lottery.
I don't cringe at the drunk on the street or the selfie taker on social media anymore. I get it. More hugs. Less judgement. Please.
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