Why is this that with all the « love » around, we still manage to be so infinitely sad?
The vast panel of communicating tools offered by the (not-so-new-anymore-) web « 2.0 » are said to work on a « love » basis. It can be argued that we could put in the « love thy neighbour » box the various acts of « going towards », show interest for, « follow », communicate with, reply to, and « see » more and more people. It is even a « love » that becomes overwhelming : hundreds of loving contacts poking you, messaging you, requesting to be friends with you, commenting on your statuses and sending notifications emails that make your computer (or mobile) go boing ! bip ! pop ! and the loudest the choir gets, the more loved and appreciated you are. You’re on the brink of singing « Love is all around » along with the cacaphony.
Word is out that this « love » could save the world and relaunch a dying economy. This is the global community work, peer-to-peered and crowd-sourced made possible by these revolutionary tools. This love evolves in an altered space-time in which the globe has become merely a multifonctional platform owned by Google. So if the world is brought to me by Google, Loïc Le Meur’s smile should convince me, right ? Shoudn’t I be perfectly happy as I check my Gmail page ? Well there I would use the « flag » button, and as selected reason, not finding anything suitable like « unrealistic and highly hypocritical content for YOU, pal ! » I’d shut down the laptop.
In a world where communication is polymorphic and continuously flowing with words, sounds and images, what strikes me with shock is the amount of infinitely sad people in these « social networks ». I now perceive my contacts and their tweeting and beeping words totally differently : when a few months back as an enthousiast and newbie I saw all this as a funny distraction for happy people, it all shifted abruptly to S.O.S. sent in the vast cybernetic ocean. I read them, sometimes reply to them, but they usually do not expect any answer. They are « statuses » merely hiding the one and terrible anguish of disappearance, that could be translated as « Here I am, do not forget me, I exist ». As for the famous Twitter’s « What are you doing? » question, I’m sure that the « Crying on my own and wanting to shoot myself » reply is not mine only when I force myself to not send it with all the strength I got left. I know it is yours, too. Sometimes or often. And as a strategy to avoid sending those dreadful words, we can’t shut up talking to « no one in particular » about nothing, thus filling up billions of teras on all possible frequencies.
But when it comes to talking to « someone in particular » and say what it is that is eating us…
There’s no one on the line.