Where would they end?

Suddenly it became very clear what everyone was doing.

Whether or not they believed someone was watching, another person,

or a god, or nothing at all. They were watching.

They: the individuals, she realized, which meant her too.

All watching themselves — go to school or to work, or lie in bed.

Or paint, or sculpt, or love, or pine for someone gone or far or unrequited.

They were all decorating their houses, or disregarding them.

All filling up their closets with clothes that fit their lifestyles or made

them feel comfortable or attractive. They were all exercising or eating healthy

or lying around watching Netflix for hours. And why?

Because they were watching. Each of them, individually, watching themselves.

They had a picture in their minds of what their lives should look like,

or at the very least had to, for the time being.

And they were crafting that, bit by bit with every waking hour.

And then they were photographing it and uploading it online to share with everyone else.

To show to them to prove to them, I am this vision I’ve envisioned.

And that’s why they were so easily fooled by each other, she realized.

That’s why she believed the things that people said online, and the happy pictures.

That’s why it was difficult to reconcile the truth of struggling relationships

with untouched Facebook statuses proclaiming happiness and ease,

or illness with Instagram pictures of yoga poses and strength,

or insecurity with photo-tweets of smiles and crop tops.

They all wanted to believe themselves so much.

How could they begin to doubt each other?

For if they began, where would they end?