Little girl

 Oh, Little girl.

I know who I can see and talk to, and touch and laugh with and crush on and end up with.

I don’t know you virtual curate of social imperfection.

I don’t know you little girl.

I might seem interested, but don’t be fooled.

It is only but the cruelest of jests of this era; the online platform and its ruthless ironies.

What helps you and me pass the time is the mild hope that someone in this vast online populace, is interested in your musings that are posts of this and that.

In this scenario little girl, you are that someone.

Yes, it is definitely you, little one.

Just like everyone other juvenile female, you display an antithetically imperfect collection of seemingly worthwhile life events that consist what you would term as constituting a life, to connect with someone like me.

Yes; someone as grown, and as mature, and as accomplished, and as good looking as me.

It is a mission so vain in its essence: what would I possibly find alluring about your make believe living, little girl. I’m living your dream.

I know real adventures, not you.

I know the people I know; I don’t know you.

On this platform, I simply know of you. You are someone I consider after I have logged in or received yet another one of those messages, that as a gentle man I am obliged to reply. Learn from what I tell you, little girl.

 I know those I know, and I don’t know you.

I know who I have known; my friends. Not you selfie taker. Yes that particular one with the dorky glasses and the shiny sheen of your pink lips looked somewhat besotting, but only for a moment.

 I remember the girl I spent time with yesterday more. Yes, that one who told this awesome joke and caught my attention. I have a crush on her you know. I think I’m going to tell her. Wish me the best of luck.

I know those truly like me; not you philosophical fake.

You prod about the keyboard of your phone with those manicured fingers spewing ideologies that are tragic facades to me on the other side. Everything about your life thesis is wounded and dying a natural death, or at least will in the next couple of years. Soul mate? Perfect guy? Happy marriage? Life after death?  I fear for your fate naïve one. Yes you might have some promising insight for a girl your age, I’ll give you that. But I don’t know wishful thinkers, I know the people who are in the here and now with me; in the reality.

I know those I find interesting and like to talk to, not you little girl. I wonder how I tolerate such absurdities with every passing conversation that I laboriously endure. Young girls are often quite the chatters, especially when they are eager to impress. Loquacious I tell you. What have I to know about these boy bands of nowadays? What do I care for the concerts and parties that you miss because of a curfew? A curfew! Please I know the grownups that choose when they can get back home, not you little girl.

Leave me alone little girl. I haven’t the energy.

Yes, the online frenzy came in a time in which I still live and breathe. Yes, I have a Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Whatsapp account like everyone else.

But just as you have them for the many people out there, comfort yourself with the fact that I as well have them for the many people that include you.

Talking to the physically invisible masses passes the time for me, just as it does for you. All we are doing here little girl, is passing time.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I know the people I know, not you. All those "forever together" and "happily ever after" memes must be taking their toll.

Grow up little girl so that the next time you see pictures of me with that cute funny girl from yesterday you will understand and indeed wish me the best of luck, instead of asking the “Who is she?” question.

I’m glad we had this talk little girl.