System Restore

She shuts down the laptop in disgust.

Walks away from the desk to stand by a window that lets only a hint of sunshine in.

Wall to wall with a neighbour means keeping the curtain closed.

Her world has grown too thin. Watered down by fake names and games they justify as harmless. She feels foolish and filtered. A digital portrait of a woman she can't be quite sure ever existed.

How real can you feel without body? Manipulation of facts and figures. Statistics indicate we are all best sellers here but where hides our digital prince who does the counting? 

Sucked in by trends, the denial of the desire to fit has become tired. Cumbersome excuses take more time to write in a status update than it does to write a poem.

Facebook has been proving men are the real drama queens since 2004. That there is no greater threat to a woman than a woman. Intellectualism reduced to stolen quotes and plagiarism. The bold faced theft of that which had kept us human, resulting in pale and dying shadows cast only by the light of the networks we serve and the amount of ourselves we exchange in sacrifice.

The laptop comes back to life. 

She turns her back to the window.

Shut down

Complete

Natasha Head