by Chukwukwe Eugenia Adaku
Today I reactivated my second Facebook account and the effect was almost instantaneous. I started to feel anxious and depressed and worried about the world and the people in it. My newsfeed (which now looks quite different to when I left a year ago) was full of stories from my friends with ideas about this and that, and I realised that those ideas were entrenched, not open for discussion or debate, that there is no open forum for communication but a giant echo chamber of noise and ego. They were not posting what they wanted to know more about but what they thought they already knew about, and I knew in that instant that any attempt at open discussion would only further entrench people in their positions.
Hate is a strong word, but I started to hate my generation, my parents generation, the lies of the media, the lies of the internet. I started to crave escape from the chaos into something entirely different. I started to
desire the dark places, caves and forests, unplugged, unjudged, uncodified, rarified in that sort of way that only escape makes possible. I started to hate myself and my
futility in the face of this Brave New World of dwindling possibility. I started to remember that our planet is on a collision course with cause and effect and that soon enough down this road we travel is our own destruction.
I do not have all the answers, but I do have one or two, and I am certain that whatever those answers may be, their place is not in the little blue book where nothing is real that pretends to be real. The great modern masquerade in which 74% of the entire internet-using population dances to the same sad waltz. I do not want to be there, to be here, to be anywhere where these words might reach anyone but they who sit beside me. In the forests, in the caves, and in the darkened places where the wild creatures lie.