Dear Sad and Insecure on Facebook,
I don’t know you beyond the name and profile you put up on facebook and I don’t mean to judge you or call you out. It’s just that ever since I found out about you, my perverse curiosity has been piqued to the point that I look forward to your occasional and pathetic post on facebook.
No, we’re not friends on facebook so you don’t come up on my feed. I have actually gone to the extent of searching your name just so I can have my nefarious need to feel superior satisfied. I give a little snicker when you talk about how beautiful your wife is and how grateful you are to have married her. My eyes roll when you dedicate love songs to the goddess that she is. When you thank her for being mother to your brilliant children and thank your lucky stars for delivering her to you when you needed her the most, I feel incredulous sadness.
It sounds so totally horrible and petty of me to think of you this way and I do feel terribly guilty. But it is like watching a train wreck, you know? I want to turn away but I can’t. That detestable gossip in me can’t turn away as I check every so often what new status update you’ve come up with. You know, that ones that no one comments on because they are probably too embarassed to or too confused. Assuming of course that you do have friends on facebook. Like I said, we’re not friends so I can’t see how many you’ve got.
I wonder which one of us is more sad and insecure? You who created an account in your husband’s name then proceed to extol your own virtues, or I who actually takes the time to search you out just so I have my wicked pleasure for the day? It is really pathetic, don’t you think? No, not you… me!
I mean, yes, part of me feels sorry that there are people like you out there, sad and needing attention. But even more pitiful are the wretched people like me who converge on disasters and cannot turn away. We clog up the highways during accidents, we make a nuisance of ourselves standing around rubber necking. We couldn’t even be bothered to move out of the way so the ambulance can get to you.
So which one of us is more pitiful? And who is more sad and more insecure? You tell me.
Your stalker friend,
Morbid and Perverse