Using an ironic twist on generalizations, the poem deals with the insecurities that arises from social media.
With the amount of social media accounts that the average person has access to, loneliness in the digital age should be easy to combat. Advances in modern technology facilitates integration between friends, family members, and the occasional acquaintance.
In the case of Two Dope, however, social media has only led to more distance between the people he sees on his timeline. He wonders if anyone truly cares about him, aside from birthdays and important life events.
All of my friends are polished instruments,
I’m the out of tune guitar,
the broken string.
Each verse begins with the phrase “All of my friends.” The verse then includes metaphors and imagery that highlight how secluded he feels from the rest of his friends.
Being the “out of tune guitar” and “broken string” relates to the feeling of being rejected. Compared to the “polished instruments,” Two Dope feels disposable and ignored.
I’m every dissident chord that disrupts listening pleasure
I’m the washed up, ego-driven with a horrible voice.
Always making the wrong choices and belting wretched noises.
Next to feeling useless is feeling hated. Harsh critiques about your creation can take up much of your time than pure indifference. This insecurity directly attacks Two Dope’s pride from a creative standpoint.
All of my friends are spotless saints.
Sanctified siblings, singing psalms of praise.
Christians refer to each other as brothers or sisters in Christ. It promotes the family aspect of Christianity, while encouraging selfless love and accountability.
Two Dope feels like the least favorite child, prone to sibling rivalry and complaining. While his “sanctified siblings” are singing “psalms of praise,”
I’m in a pit of sin, filled with tears and regrets.
This can be a callback to the previous poem “In The Night,” which focused on Two Dope’s struggle with lust. It can also be an example of the loner Christian who doesn’t share his troubles with other Christians, choosing to wallow in his own sorrow.
All of my friends are social butterflies.
I’m the caterpillar crawling in the corner.
Two Dope is not much of a socialite. Given what we know about him so far, it’s not difficult to see why. Being prideful and stuck in your own head can make it problematic to establish lasting relationships.
I’m longing for my cocoon of solitude,
with free food and smooth tunes.
Rather than pretend to be a social butterfly, Two Dope would rather just be the caterpillar alone in his room, listening to music and eating food. It’s too much pressure being sociable, so Two Dope prefers to keep to himself in his “cocoon of solitude.”
All of my friends are messengers,
talkative creatures with moving mouths.
On social media, Two Dope tends to see people just talk for the sake of talking. “Talkative creatures with moving mouths” refer to people who make status updates without any meaning or proposed action essentially wasting Two Dope’s time.
Small talk is never good enough.
I can never muster a clever response
in the moment of a conversation.
From Two Dope’s perspective, small talk is almost the same as not talking at all. These kinds of conversations bore Two Dope, so he’s unable to contribute anything meaningful.
All of my friends love me.
Sometimes the feelings are mutual.
They love the person I’m not.
I love to be accepted,
conform to the popular opinion.
Consciously, I could never comply.
Even with his complaints, Two Dope knows that people care about him. But he’s paranoid about the depth of his friendships. Are they as steadfast as he initially believes? Maybe they like him for what they expect him to be. Maybe that’s why he’s alone most of the time. In any case, Two Dope sticks to his convictions and chooses to be himself.
All of my friends lack investment.
The businesses went bankrupt,
the profits fell into pitfalls, and
the employees went on to better things.
Now I’m staring through the window,
wondering if anyone would break my fall.
Without the proper foundation or growth, Two Dope is seeing his relationships crumble as a result. Now left alone, he wonders if there are still friends to call his own.
All of my friends might not read this.
Either they are blind to my internal struggles
or will use indifference for personal purposes.
For this last verse, Two Dope vents his frustrations towards the friends that may ignore his thoughts entirely. Whether they choose not to see it or don’t care, Two Dope has uncovered the veil and believes that social media has exposed the true intentions of his so called “friends.”
I’m honestly not worth a mention.
Two Dope probably receives little to no notifications on his phone, assuming that no one bothers to mention him or start a conversation.
Studying ancient chat histories,
realizing I have no time on their timelines.
Looking back on chat threads, Two Dope realizes that the people he talked to rarely responded to him consistently. Yet they would post something everyday.
No news of me, I’m broken from lack of followers.
His follower count is really low and even his followers rarely interact with him. It only accentuates the perception of perpetual loneliness.
Leading a host of ghost accounts that offer no accountability.
The illusion of social networking is more than I can bear.
I wonder if all of my friends are still there.
By the end of the poem, Two Dope understands the fickle nature of social media. It’s not as social as most people make it out to be. In a sense, it’s like talking to ghosts who won’t respond back. It makes him question if his real life friends are as loyal as previously thought.
It’s one thing to feel distant from people in your friends list. But how about letting go of your pride for a moment and love someone other than yourself?
The next 3 poems aim to address that question. And the relationships Two Dope will experience may leave him in a terrible predicament