Women’s March: In a delirium

I swipe. I swipe a lot. I swipe incessantly. I swipe so much that I hate myself for it but I can’t stop myself from it.

The app, the people, the desires, needs, wants; the simplicity of it all makes it so accessible to construct a fantastical fictionalised reality for me.

People become objects. I have an addiction. If I like an object, I need that object.

Left, left, left, right.

It’s a match! My heart skips a beat. My hopes spring eternal. I make a mistake. I get too ahead of myself.

I am 22. I want something but I don’t know what that something is. I want to feel something. I want to fill a void but fill it with what? Love or lust or neither?

Left, left, left, right.

We start talking. I don’t know them but I feel giddy, I feel whole. I feel wanted; I feel happy.

I become a version of myself I don’t recognise. I become needy. I become sad.

Their attention consumes me, it keeps me going but then it fizzles. I self-sabotage.

I am passionate, smart, crafty, quirky, a little unhinged in a good way but I fail to see these qualities in myself. I become envious of the one thing others have. Attachment.

Left, left, left, oh, a superlike!

I am a commodity too I realise. I could advocate for anything but myself. My desire for attachment was accompanied by shame, anxiety, emptiness.

I was desperate to know what it felt like to be wanted. I was desperate for intimacy but intimacy came with rules. They say “I only want something casual”.

I respect the forwardness, the honesty, the bluntness but it stings. I muster the courage to accept their want. I convince myself that if I accepted the want, it would be a stepping stone to fulfilling my want.

‘This user has unmatched you’

I grieve the loss of someone that I only knew two-dimensionally. My fantasy shatters. I am back to square one. I am right where you left me.

Except, you don’t know that; you move on and obtain your ‘something casual’. I overthink too much. This is so cliché of me. I can’t pin down why I’m so bothered.

Left, left, left, right. Here we go again…

I objectify and get objectified. I am a feminist but this experience isn’t liberating. I create this façade of wanting to fulfil what they wanted while convincing myself I was acting like a progressive feminist.

I am what I like to call ‘a self-destructive masochist’.

Left, left, left, *delete account*

I need to build a relationship with myself. I will not settle for crumbs. I deserve the whole cake. I need to stop seeking. I think it’ll be worth it.

Written by Shabnam Sidhu

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