Fakebook

I see them all with their "perfect" lives.  Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat.  We don't speak in person any more.  We can't meet for coffee, or tea.  They "catch up" through comments, looking at my pictures.  I know what's going on... They just want the gossip.

I post the bad with the good.  When the depression sets in, my texts are unanswered.  I shout in to the void of fakebook.  Please, someone, I need help.  I get compliments, not connections.  I get platitudes, not peace.  "I had no idea!" "Let me know if I can help."  The words come and go into the abyss.  Written but not meant, for we never hang even then.

I hosted a slumber party. Four teenagers, staring at screens.  No giggles, no gossip, no laughs.  No fun.  What's the point?