When I was a little girl I heard a saying,
“nobody loves me, everybody hates me,
I might as well go eat worms.”
I’m grown now, and I’m eating worms.

I love, I eat worms.
I share, I eat worms.
I care, I eat worms.
I’m honest, I eat worms.
I trust, I eat worms.
I hurt, I eat worms.
I feel anger, I eat worms.
I feel, I eat worms.

No one on Facebook seems to care how full of worms my stomach is.
Then again, I don’t post, “look, look, worms, I am full of worms…”
I am their friend on Facebook, they know what happened…

and despite this they all continue posting
 to make announcements about new cars,
and how great their lives are, so many saying;
sugar plum, sweetie, baby, cutie, smooches!
or gossiping about the death of Amy Winehouse,
saying prayers for each other in my face,
making Facebook posts from their little Androids and iPhones,
bragging about golf, fish, steak, exotic trips and even friends with cancer?
Yet none of those cousins, brothers, sisters or friends of mine have yet to call me and say,
“I’m so sorry he threatened to kill you as he raped you.”

Not one.

The isolation and the worms are beginning to kill me.
I want to fake my death on Facebook and never eat worms again.
 I can’t take eating too many more worms.

Or maybe revenge is the best course of action.
Perhaps I should start tweeting about all of my success,
and smather Facebook with announcements about great achievements and new possessions,
and make it a point to not like on anyone’s fake reply.
Maybe I should let the worms take over my destiny…

Maybe it’s time to tell Facebook and everyone else, goodbye.