For The Loathe of Social Media

You see what I want you to see — the finished product.

Erase the pencil lines — rubbed off eraser bits cover the page, sweep them away and all that’s left is pen — the permanent lines once guided by pencil, now carelessly buffed away.

It’s an odd thing, erasing the lines that birthed permanence.

It feels ungrateful.

Sure, I drew those transitory lines, but then I erased them once they were of no further value.

The guide that provided a framework for permanence is now obsolete.

Look, my work, permanent, pristine.

You see what I want you to see — the finished product.

You see the serene-smooth bred from sketchy faint lines that took several tries to master, to settle for.

You see this thing of perfection that I still loathe, deep down. You see something envious, and it makes you wish you were better, stronger, smarter.

You see what I want you to see.

Inside I’m breaking, ungrateful, scrutinizing the beauty you wish you could produce.

Inside lies the truth, one you’ll never see.

The journey is irrelevant. The finished product, that is all that matters.

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