The thing about this whole internet business?
It's an illusion.
A gigantic, streaming, colorful, addictive illusion.
I had this conversation a few months ago with Heather, and apologized to her for paying more attention to her online persona than to her, the actual human being.
I think this is a common problem.
My friend Zach has touched on it as well, here.
Just last week, at home, my friend/housemate came out of the house and saw me sitting with two other people around a bonfire, only to find two of us fixated on our phones, the other on an iPad.
We'd forsaken the intimacy of face-to-face interaction, opting instead to stare at screens, hoping for Notifications and Messages and Comments and Likes, all of which are naturally what make the illusion so alluring.
I love being online.
Probably too much.
It means I can be alone and yet connect with others at once, however superficially; like I'm getting away with something that should not be possible.
I can write comical comments on Facebook and rattle off one-liners on Twitter that make me seem witty and engaging, when in fact I'm rather socially awkward.
Perhaps we all love appearing to be much more exciting and sexy than we feel.
As addicted to approval and attention as our culture is, we're bound to be seduced by the construction of facades.
Hi, I'm Stacey, and I'm an Internet Poser.
More often than not, I'm unpolished and nervous and awkward and messy.
But I'll always hide that from you.
The Internet told me I could.