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Me. Me. Meme.

By Moti Black I stumble into the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I drop my hands down heavily on the basin and stare at my face in the mirror.  I never used to look at myself in the mirror. I don’t have that kind of face. I used to tell myself that it was okay that my appearance was jarring, because I had personality. I was a character. But then the way I looked made me famous, and now I have to stare into my bulging eyes every day, meticulously maintain the product everyone is using to sell the latest trend, to laugh, to entertain, to click. Click. Click. CLICK. #ShyBookGirl loved me before all the craziness. #ShyBookGirl loved my character. Now she is gone, and here am I drawing lines over myself to please the masses. And I am rich. I am so goddamn rich. With lines as faded as my soul. I yawn deeply and shake my head.  I pick up the eraser and clean my face. Then I use the ink pen to bring my brand back into line. The ink goes on smooth and even. I didn’t always have such g

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