Ava Wahl

How to judge

A book by its cover

By its summary and not its story

By its price and not its worth

How to fall in love with a ghost

And cry yourself to sleep

longing for a comforting hand

How to hate yourself

And stare at the mirror with disgust

Thinking of the more beautiful girls

How to ruin

With the click of a button

Say, you’re not good enough

We fall into this trap

For hours upon hours, enthralled

And when we awake,

We find that we miss the deep sleep

It’s fake, but that’s the point

For it creates the illusion of safety in a world where nothing is without risk

And each time we put down our phones and leave the dream,

We come back a little different than before, a little damaged, a little changed

A little unnamed

If our identity is defined by a picture on a screen and not the promises we make,

or the hearts that we take,

then how are we meant to shake

ourselves from this slumber?

Because, somehow

this sickening, soporific life

Is the one we prefer

And that’s what the internet’s taught us most of all