I admit it:  I count “likes” on Facebook. I wait with bated breath for that little red number to pop up at the top of my screen. Merry Christmas, schmuck!  SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE likes what I have to say and WANTS to respond!

SHIT.

No they don’t.  Like the last kid picked at Dodge Ball, the numbers show that these are responses to some other person’s post. Someone else garnering the Likes and Shares that I crave like chocolate.

“WHY?!,” I cry to the social media gods.  “Am I not witty enough? Not insightful enough? ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!?! ”

I want “Liked.”  I want winked at. I want followed, tweeted, tagged, pinned, poked, tumbled and shared. If you didn’t know me, you’d think I wanted laid. Hell, that’s easy. I just want to be KNOWN.

When you think of social media darlings, I want you to think of me. I want to start the Cat Meme known through out the world. I want my witticisms to cut through walls like a laser. I want my twitters to tweet loud and long  I want the contents of my cybersoul pinned to my shirt sleeve. I WANT to be VIRAL. I want to know that when I look into a mirror, someone is looking back who everybody KNOWS.

Not remembered. I don’t care about remembered. Etching myself into memory takes work. Take repetition and time. Takes doing a lot of little things like listening, conversing, spending time with people who might actually want to spend time with me. It’s slow. It’s tedious.  Far easier to be known and Googled later.

I just want to be known, now, in the click of a send button. I don’t really care if I am loved. I just want to be “Liked.”