ANTM: It’s time to go

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Ah, Reddit.

Is this what my parents, grandparents felt as the world passed them by?

I find myself referencing their sepia-toned lives frequently, their pivot points leave hazy memories and the sense I’m in the club now. I talk to my father, which is funny since he died estranged from me, an unrepentant, defiant, abusive old man in his early 50s laying like a cold, fatty slab of meat, waiting for the Tripler nurses to wake up… his 50s… the same age I am.

Earlier today, I turned on a DVR of “America’s Next Top Model,” the season opener. I didn’t recognize these people as a part of the human race, not my human race, not me or anyone I came from.

The young judges, models, stylists, trend-setters, the young, aspiring wannabes set up their social media stage in such self-important, fleeting detail. They went on about branding, “All eyes on me,” walking over everyone else’s feelings to reach the top, which is… what?social-me-me-media-narcissistic-blogging-l-4ba7ec

Being seen? Having 25K and over followers? Standing there half-naked sticking your T&A out, smizing, ducklips banging? That’s worth a multi-million “boss” contract?

When did the world turn into a squad of raging, rival Narcissists jostling for position — just for existing? Is this all we came down here for?

I found myself crying by the end of the first episode, as the slick Tyra Banks — no relation, thank gawd — credits rolled on, plastic till the very end, rewarding superficiality, the cliché of every other walking mannequin on sight.

I don’t want to exist in this kind of world. I want to find my people, do as much good as I can, laugh until I shit my pants, and then leave this place better than I found it.

There. Nothing dramatic.

Tomorrow, if all goes well, I’ve got a movie date to see “Split” with my friend Sarah, the early show. I hope I don’t drop dead from a heart attack.

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