I’m turning thirty in two fortnights and coming to realise that growing up isn’t a linearity. I have so much to learn, the outline of which I’m not even able to guess. Being the soul of a dinosaur that I am, I had dismissed the digital age as unreality; inferior to analog experience. By zoy, was I wrong.

I came to understand the spirit of a friend, through listening to the patterns struck out on the musical sheet that was his turbulence. His cries, his anxieties, his demands, his wishes, his dreams – they formed a picture slowly, through the pixels of another’s words.

I fell in love, with someone I had barely spoken to when we lived together. We had a mutual misunderstanding of each other. When we were revealed to one another, the sheer comfort was like knowing the next song would be a good one.

I’ve learnt that narcissism is about self-aggrandisement, and self-love for confidence is okay. I spent a lot of time in front of a camera, to speak my heart, to make up for the disguise I hadn’t meant to wear when I was with them.

Still, a digital reality is a screen. I cannot give you a hug when you are sad, I cannot make you a cup of tea when you are anxious, I cannot say your name. The dissonance is the white noise between us, and I trust in the music.

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