Your finger tips know
very well to scroll up and down,
tap right and right
and only right.
Oh! something appears:
Started School at XYZ.
Type congratulations!
Type it now,
because this post won’t appear later.
15 seconds and it will be gone
in the oceans of algorithms.
You’ll look mean and
rude and jealous,
so type fast, C-O-N-G-R-A-T-U-L-A-T-I-O-N-S!
A big glass of juice,
chocos dipped in milk,
because you love chocolate,
and yet you can’t let go of
the sight of the screen.
Let’s see:
Started Job At The Best Company In The
Whole Wide World.
Fast type: congratulations
because you do not mean to be rude,
even if your accounts have run dry,
this is not the time to
question the unconventional path
you’ve decided to walk on.
Type, type.
Because you are indeed proud of
that someone,
and wish nothing but
great things for the other.
Yet, you cannot stop wondering,
if the roads ahead
amount to anything.
Lying on the bed
close to mid-night,
the scrolling game in dim light.
The tech lights
might damage your sight,
but wait:
Engaged to DEF!
Fast, type: Congratulations,
even if you know this post will pop again,
type it fast.
Now’s not the time to worry about
your broken heart, your insecure mind
that tells you you’ve been doing something wrong
by being all by yourself
all this time.
Type: C-O-N-G-R-A-T-U-L-A-T-I-O-N-S!
Congratulations.
You do not mean ill will,
you do not mean disaster,
you are not the sour devil.
Even if you have to think twice
to type
congratulations!
Dried up appetites,
surviving on self doubts,
where do we belong?
Wait:
A proud father?
You look at yourself,
your body so fragile
unable to complete
what you’ve started
how and when will you ever think of a child?
Still type: Congratulations!
Type type,
don’t be such a miser!
Wish a wish,
maybe it’ll come back to you.
Here’s a better idea:
let’s get out of this myopia.
Throw away the screen
and silence the voices in your head,
that tell you
you are not enough.
Listen. Do not see.
Just listen.
You are E-N-O-U-G-H.
Now write to yourself:
CONGRATULATIONS!
For everyone who feels everybody knows the path but yourself: No one does. No one.
Pink Floyd was right:
“We’re just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year”
