This generation has had an alarming spike in addiction. With a constant barraging of social media, it’s easy to get trapped in the downward spiral of likes. This attention goes beyond just the internet presence. More and more people have started to go to great and dangerous lengths to get the high that they are craving. They are looking for this generation’s most used drug: attention.
Today, we take you inside the minds of those addicts.
Chairperson: Welcome to Attention Addicts Anonymous, a worldwide fellowship of men and women who help each other to stay humble. This is a closed meeting. You are welcome to stay if you have a desire to quit attention. If you have gotten any likes in the last 24 hours, we ask that you only listen during the meeting. Because of the generally short attention span of the room, let’s skip straight to the sharing. We’ll have three people go. Who would like to go first? Whoa, not everyone at once, stay in your seats. Ok, you in the blue, you can go first. But let’s remember why we are here. Share your story in a concise fashion so others have a chance. You each have one minute.
Kelly: Hi guys, my name is Kelly, and I’m an attention addict.
Everyone: Hi, Kelly.
Kelly: I guess rock bottom for me was when I started paying for Instagram followers. I had to get another job, which ended up being a cocktail waitress at a beach bar, just to get by. The attention I got from customers coupled with the thousands of followers I had was incomparable. I stopped taking care of myself once I downloaded Facetune, because, like, I knew that it only mattered what you looked like on social media. I got fired from my waitressing job and no longer had the money to pay for my followers so I went into withdrawal. I started showing my picture to people on the street and asking them if they liked it. That’s when I knew I had a problem. It’s been 4 months since my last Instagram post.
*everyone claps*
Chairperson: Great job Kelly, thank you for sharing. Ok, who’s next? You, in the tank top.
Ronny: Whaddup guys, the name’s Ronny, and I’m an attention addict.
Everyone: Hi, Ronny.
Ronny: Well being from Jersey and having the same name as a Jersey Shore cast member, the pressure to live up to the name really weighted me down, you know? That’s why I always turned to attention to make me feel better. I wouldn’t even step foot into the gym if I wasn’t sure that enough people would be there to hear my grunt because of how heavy my weights are. My backup plan was to film it to make sure that all my Facebook friends saw how much I lift, bros. And ladies, my apologies. My motha got worried about me when she saw that my skin started getting a leathery feel to it and I stopped eating her famous meatballs. I needed to stay shredded so the ladies would want to lick coconut oil off of my muscles, no disrespect. The day my motha cried because I refused seconds of her lasagna was when I knew I needed to change. That was 6 months ago.
*everyone claps*
Chairperson: Beautiful, Ronny. Alright, Elaine, how about you come up now? You have a great story.
Elaine: Hello everyone. My name is Elaine and I’m an attention addict.
Everyone: Hi, Elaine.
Elaine: I grew up a clumsy girl, tripping and falling over everything. I learned from a young age that if I seemed hurt enough, then people would see if I was ok. This manifested itself into my adulthood, and by the age of 35, I had an entire stockpile of medical aids. Crutches, slings, wraps, braces, you name it, I had it. I would come up with an elaborate but believable story, go to my medical stash, and fake injuries for weeks at a time. I could ride that high for a few months, but after awhile, I couldn’t deal with the lack of attention I was getting. I would have another “flare up” or “injury” and people would flock to give me attention again. But one day, I was hiking, and I was attacked by a bald eagle. It ripped off most of my right ear and nearly severed my carotid artery. But when I called for help, no one believed me, so I had to drive myself to the hospital with the eagle following me the entire way. When I returned to work, everyone ignored me, annoyed with my perpetual false injuries. When the bandage was removed and most of my ear was gone, still nothing. But I didn’t want it anymore. I grew my hair out to cover my ears. It’s been a year and a half since the attack and 14 months since I donated my stockpile to the hospital that saved me.
*everyone claps*
Chairperson: Inspring. Truly inspiring, Elaine. Let us all join together and recite our closing prayer.
Everyone: God grant me the sanity to love myself, to accept compliments from others, the courage to find validity in myself, and the strength to know the difference..
Image via Shutterstock
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