coquet
It’s strange, the way just a mention of a certain name, even ten years after the last time you saw each other, can bring back memories; or rather, transport you to an alternate reality, just for a crazy moment.
Found the f-book page of a friend, a former friend. Saw photos of the past few years, probably a level of privacy this person would not have wanted me to see, because knowledge is power.
Power: our entire relationship was about power. I venture that every relationship this person has ever had is about power, but I digress. Neither of us will ever contact the other, because to do so would be to lose face. So for the moment, I know more, and thus I am in the lead. In the lead! That slipped out, but there it is. Between us, only one can win. And yet, having discovered this person’s page, I find that I must forbid myself from checking back to see whether it has changed. I indulge my curiosity and am rewarded with schadenfreud and a smug feeling of superiority…and yet, obsessed, I cannot resist the urge to click back to my own profile, and again, and once more.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest? Who is winning? Who has more friends? Whose relationship is succeeding? Whose job prospects are better? Who is a better writer? Who betrays their true nature more obviously through innocent postings?
The truth is that superiority is a thin varnish, beneath which insecurity runs rampant. In truth, this person is merely my mirror. And if so, am I the only one who remembers? Do I care more? And by caring at all, is it I, in the end, who loses?
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