Not a Repost

     We're all adults here, right? Difficult as it is to be certain about anything in this world, full as it is of illusion and lies, it seems safe enough to speculate that most, if not all, of the populace who count themselves as readers of this bizarre little thing have achieved some level of adulthood. Or, at the very least, have seen an 'R' rated movie or two, and almost definitely would describe themselves as being capable of making their own decisions, even if they dislike being held responsible for them.
     Which, to our collective dismay, we are. Each of us is sadly, regrettably, responsible for the decisions we make, because the best part of being an adult is also the worst:
     As an adult, no one can tell you what to do.
     Sure, some of us may have a boss, or an overbearing relative or significant other, but the decision to obey  lies ultimately with us. Admittedly, freedom from such things comes at a heavy price, one that often includes no small amount of aimlessness and loneliness, but for some unfortunate number of us, it nonetheless appeals as the superior path. Often as not, it's chosen primarily for the silence it provides, and the release from having to hear or consider the input or feelings of other people. People, as we all know, are widely regarded as being the worst, especially by those who operate motor vehicles. Which is why the incentive for interacting with them so eludes many of us.
     Said incentive, already rather an endangered species, is, I regret to inform you, now under a greater threat than ever before. Its already gasping existence is being, at this very moment, further throttled, by a once thought harmless adversary.
     It is known, friends and neighbors, as the Dreaded Repost, and it's day has dawned upon and through us, the unsuspecting masses. Fading in from the digital depths, the Repost is now overpowering the Original Post, abducting those who once wished only to tell the world about the inane minutiae of their day, and transforming them into people who believe they can change the world if they Repost something about how evil immigrants are, or how much fatter one country is than another, or how their glorious deity once carried them around on a beach. Or perhaps the unimportant rantings of a person who claims to desire solitude but constantly makes bids for attention through desperate attempts to disguise irrational anger as humor. I've heard some people do that.
     The Dreaded Repost brings this change about with seductive promises, Which are of course the most appealing sort. It promises us the righteousness of majority, it promises safety in numbers, it promises the satisfaction of successful change in our world. Unfortunately, these promises are false. Reposting does not make us activists, nor does it make us humanitarians, or comedians, or faithful disciples.
     The Dreaded Repost makes us unoriginal, is what it does, often telling us most people won't provide the Repost because of some sort of fear or lack of individuality.
     "Wait!" I can hear the choruses cry, "what about spreading awareness, smart guy?" the multitudes* call to me in unison, searching desperately to defend the Dreaded Repost.
     My reply comes in that longtime favorite and never irksome form of answering a question with a question.
     "What about it?" I say, and then realize I should probably explain. Which I will.
     Think about it for one second, and then read on because an explanation requires more than me just telling people to think about stuff. When a Dreaded Repost rears its ugly head, what do we do? Easy. If it's one we agree with, we give it that much sought after click, feeling reassured that our way is the right one, and quietly rejoicing in the Camaraderie of the Just. Otherwise, we at best ignore it, and at worse react to it negatively, furrowing our brows at the screen and thinking on what an insufferable fool the person who made this Repost must be, wondering why we even bother with them, before forgetting it and getting on with our lives, points of view intact and unchanged, the only awareness successfully spread being the already ubiquitous knowledge that everyone else is a nincompoop.
     I, for one, have even come to find myself longing for the days preceding the rise of the Dreaded Repost, even though they were so full of those once railed against pictures of what people were eating for dinner, or why their job in particular was terrible, or how some ex-significant needs to stop posting all their drama. So, I ask, I implore, I beg and beseech every person the world over, let's put an end to the reign of the Dreaded Repost, and return to a simpler time, one where everyone's idiocy was at least there own to claim.
     Repost if you agree.
-John
   

*Stupid multitudes. Always calling out in unison. How about a round, once in a while, Like "Row, Row, Row your boat?"