Logging Off? Creative Non-fiction by Hazel J. Hall


Yeah, 10 hours yesterday /

I am happy though / (happier than most) /

Satisfied, even / I mean, the rush is never as strong as the first time it hit / but at least something is guaranteed / it's the internet /

there always *has* to be something out there / something else to know / something new I haven't heard of before /

i know i'm hooked / but you have to understand / we all are

tapping, liking, scrolling,

disliking,

saving,

favoriting,

quitting and coming back. /

it's the media age / trapped in this cycle /

why? what do you mean *why*? / why do we orbit the sun? /

what if i miss something? /

what if im not always available /

what if they dont like me /

(what if they start seeing me the way i see myself?)

and then /

what if i try to leave and never find this feeling again / this satiation again / a cousin to satisfaction, who got all the worst family genes / processing no more than 60 seconds of information /

(why would i leave? how would i survive in the real world anyways?)

i mean what if /

what if i go /

and they dont notice im gone /

what if im not connected / what if the end of the world is finally coming and i dont hear about it / what if someone dies and im not the first to know about it /

what if i could make a difference / what if i log off and nothing is any different /

can i just keep scrolling / waiting 2 find the 1 video to make me laugh 2day / keep losing myself in this pocket square / the size of my world / ? /

keep waiting for a buzz / for my connection / waiting for some1 to notice my absence / waiting to get back online / ? /

because what if i disconnect and never find what ive been searching for / hoping for /

what if no one ever searches my name when im gone /

what if all the noises stop and there is nothing to refresh /

what if all the noises stop and i have to deal with my thoughts /

what if there are no thoughts /

what if /

i am completely alone

and there is silence /

? /



 

Hazel J. Hall (she/they) is a disabled-queer writer and poet based in rural New Hampshire. She loves making art in all its forms and is heavily inspired by the world beyond her window. More of Hazel's work can be found in Scribes*MICRO*Fiction, Celestite Poetry, and Réapparition Journal, with other pieces forthcoming or visible at her site, hazeljhall.com.