I’ve been looking at your facebook profile. I couldn’t help myself. You’re awfully good looking, a likeable smile; that chin. You have better friends than me. Better, faster, stronger; hipper. I see you made a new friend last week. He’s really good looking. My insecurities creep. But I won’t say a peep, just observe. When you broke up with me I checked your profile four times daily for two years running. Habit forming, less destructive than you’d think. Click, scroll the offered steeple, note the changed make-up of your social teeth. And I totally clicked that link; find out who’s been looking at your facebook profile. I click it every time. I click it despite the false-promise I know it to keep. I click it because I’m a creep.
Internet peace.
