melted

following in the footsteps

six hundred and nineteen people are following me currently (which seems so profound to me, people using their vote and hitching their star not to fdr but to just me, easily the most far fetched dream i've ever had was to be revered in my own respects, how can this be? i don't completely agree with the whole concept behind followers, i don't like how people base their self worth off of numbers, we've done it for years. look at these kids who want to lose weight, want people to look at them and go "wow, i want to be with them, wow, i want to be them." look at these girls who stuff their bras for the numbers, boys who spend all day in the gym for the numbers, people of all shapes and sizes who forget what eating is for the numbers. this idea of the magnitude of our effect on others through our affect has turned into turquoise, oxidizing like copper pennies being called worthless, worthless, a scam like that jewelry those pyramid schemes taunt you with, you'll make millions! the numbers, the numbers. i really don't like how people base their creations off of the masses, i'm guilty of fame association, hypocrites will clamp down on starlight and make it shine brighter, we're all haplessly hopelessly hopping mad in the eyes of the media, but inside it seems as if the next notification's what gets you through another minute, red flashes are better in moderation, one's a like and the other's a life, after all. i despise that i'm a part of it all, that i fuel the thing that drains me faster than it can fill, energy's a commodity wasted and resources online can spite you at best, because when the battery runs out we all shut down the same way, you can't boycott time no matter how many friends you have. we fall victim to these ploys, sinking deeper into this loathing of the scroll but still reading on, we argue and fight with arbitrary numbers over our heads, act as if we own the world, as if digits will get us more, our phones ring the same tones but we're not hooked on their phonics as much as the sound of our own voices. have you looked in the mirror lately, hated waiting, made things hastier than they should have been all over a screen? we're all over our screens, and it's pathetic, and i'm pathetic. we've spent so long spending money on idiosyncrasies rather than seeing the idiocy behind drawing boundaries, the barriers that social media has drawn might just be bigger than the ripped seams that succeeded, we're all getting trapped tighter and tighter inside of our own minds, have you seen the going rates lately? not of cars, not of houses, but of people. the black market has so many meanings nowadays depending on how you read it, we've changed into a nation of haters and phased out the land of dreams, nobody's fazed by what this means, we're in a haze, a daze, a dance with feet that don't feel like ours anymore. don't follow in my footsteps, don't match the beat of my percussion, it's concussive and conclusive and you should be open to new symphonies, that's what this was all supposed to be about. communication swept the nation and left only those who cling behind. it's the best and the worst, the biggest blessing with a culminating curse, and that's why you read the terms and conditions, kids).