Group Chats

I had an idea. Post my essays on Facebook groups. Midlife crisis. Cool retired women. Retired over 50.

You get the idea.

Well. Well. Well.

Can you imagine the audacity of the admins deleting my posts?

The nerve.

They didn’t even take the time to read them. Automatically deleted the second they were posted.

I totally related to that crowd. I had inspirational material they should have loved.

Maybe I hit a nerve?

Maybe I was too profound?

Regardless — 9 year old me was upset.

Stomping her foot in rage.

How can they do this to ME?

Hold on, woman. To me?

They are not doing anything personal. We are talking about middle aged group admins who don’t know I exist.

But still. I was pouting.

My nephew — bless his soul — informed me that Facebook is for ancient people.

Excuse me. I am not ancient.

He said if I wanted to be read, TikTok was the place.

Urgh.

TikTok is for teenagers. Who is going to scroll through a 33 page essay on TikTok?

He said: you are sending to 1.8 billion people. This is the universe.

Fine.

He gave me a crash course on hashtags because left to my own devices I would have reached the basement.

So I posted on TikTok. Went to sleep with hopes of millions of views and a book deal.

Can’t blame a girl for dreaming.

Woke up to 557 views.

Dream vanished.

Little pouting nine year old is back.

Then I had to shake her out of me.

557 is not bad at all. It’s 557 humans who took the time to stop. To read. To stay.

557 people who did not scroll past me.

I was seen.

I hope the universe keeps seeing me.

Because nine year old me wants a lollipop