Internet connection part II: Falling out of love

By Brian Figurski

A

bout a year ago, I browsed a photo album and went on a spirit journey through in the Internet to find a long forgotten friend of mine, Cameron (sic). I even wrote a sadistic stalk-inspiring article about it.

Damn you all for not helping me find him, either.

Over the holiday break, I did manage to find my old chum. He befriended my dad on Facebook; not me, ironically. Which is upsetting in a sense that he had zero interest to easily link to me.

Or maybe he did and saw the smorgasbord of violent, clothe-lacking pictures of the clown I present myself as and decided it best to play dead.

It has come to my attention more than ever this small web we have weaved for ourselves over the Internet. We reconnect with people we assumed perished in a van fire. Our divorced parents get a second chance to collide with high school flames. I have to hear it in the next room.

In any case, I spoke with Cameron (sic), who would have been easier to initially find if his progressive parents didn’t omit so many letters from his name for the sake of being hip and edgy. 

Our conversation went something like this: “Long time no see!” “Yes. How are you?” “Good.” “Me too.” End of conversation for the duration of life. It will never be the same.

The point I’m trying to get across is that our world is growing smaller every day. You can find old friends across the globe, or spark up conversations with prepubescent boys on Omegle in an instant. You may even fall in love.

But are we actually connecting, or is this a projection of our greatest hopes and desires? The fantastical endless possibilities, never to be restricted by reality?

What proof do I have Cameron (sic) isn’t a sophisticated, friendly catfish? What verifies these little boys are not just bone-deficit adults that never ate their hearty greens?

I guess it’s just a leap of faith we take, plastering ourselves on the Internet. Most of us are automatic with it at a daily rate. I put myself on display at a weekly pace, making a mockery of my existence with slanderous, goofball articles.

Despite my sarcasm onslaught, I’m glad I found a former friend, even if we never seek another moment, and I’m happy about all the random people I’ve partially met through these 21st century tools.

It’s now a matter of convincing them all I’m not a little boy.