Minsan gusto ko na lang makiuso sa mga burgis – “Yeah, yeah, you poor, know your place, it’s under me or under the grave” – pero pag naaalala ko yung mga panahon na halos wala akong makain at naliligiran pa ako ng mga Christ-centered classmates ko na may star-shaped pang chicken nuggets, nahihiya ako sa sarili ko. Madaling maging mahirap kung pare-pareho kayo, pero ang kalikasan ng lipunan ay ikaw lang ang maghihirap para sa ikaliligaya at haraya ng iilan. My somewhat privileged life is supported by the backs of anonymous poor people; the least I could do is to stop adding insult to their existence. Wala na nga akong magawa para matigil ang pagpatay sa mga maralita na “nanlalaban,” hahamakin ko pa sila?
When I first used Facebook, it was still a forum for inane things. Then came “news,” “influencers,” “engagements,” “viral,” “bots.” It ceased being a playground and a community. It has now become a marketplace full of swindlers and simpletons. It has become a world unto itself, a reality where it is easy to create, destroy, and recreate selves. A decade ago, my Facebook account was just an extension of myself, a neat little feature to freely communicate and celebrate the innocuousness and idealism of youth. Now, it is no longer just an extension of Me, but another me, negotiating its way in a universe of appearances, deceit, and enslavement.