#addiciton

Introduction

In Nafissa-Thompson’s Whisper to a Scream, a huge part of community and belonging plays a role in the story. I felt that this part was very relatable to me, and I felt a deep connection with the protagonist. Raina, the main character, would rather spend time inside rather than talking to her family members in her house, and yet she wanted the people close to her to talk and spend time with her. I think that a lot of people that use the internet as a form of escapism can also relate to this, as they would rather spend time with people online rather than in person. I hope that this blog can be used to become self-aware of the problems that come with this and use it to stop internet addiction. There is a bit of hypocrisy when it comes to these things, as these sorts of people would rather get short-term enjoyment rather than long-term and sustain relationships with others. Raina, the main character, has many personal issues in her life, and the only way she feels is that she can express herself online. She barely talks to anyone in her real life, and some part of that stems from the fact that she’s addicted to her online life where she has more friends. For Raina, it looks a lot easier, and probably is easier, to stay in her room and spend time with her online boyfriend, than to get harassed by a group of boys in person. This blog post will go over this story, how its themes and characters compelled me to focus on this topic, and how it goes over the issues that an internet persona could bring to someone’s very real life.

Raina’s Personal Life: Main Idea #2

This leads to my next point, and has to do with Raina’s mom, Raina’s isolation with her relationships. Raina and her mom are extremely isolated from each other, so much so that Raina calls her by her first name even though that’s Raina’s blood mother. Raina feels so disconnected from life, so much so that she doesn’t even acknowledge her mother anymore, and this works as a form of isolation. Every comment that her mother makes is a comment that tries to “fix” Raina, such as weight loss or doing homework. There’s no helpful or encouraging words that Carmen has ever said in the chapter, and to top it all off, her mother doesn’t see this as an issue. Raina’s father is also out of her life, and her school bullies physically and sexually assault her at school, so she’s terrified of even attending school. They even call her racist slurs because she’s black on her videos and harass her in the comments. “It was only when he tried to feel her up on a class trip”, “Crying, she ran off; he told his friends—and subsequently the entire class—that Raina was a slut who had flashed him her boobs.” (Spires 126). These are all valid reasons to close yourself off, and the main reason why she seeks validation online through her ASMR videos. She even feels disconnected from her friends too, so she almost has no one to talk to except her online boyfriend; ironically, she doesn’t even know his appearance. Despite all of this, she still chooses him over her own family and friends. She would rather accept the community that she has created because at least they say nice things to her sometimes, at least they say encouraging and respectful words to her sometimes, because sometimes is better than never at all.

In the dark cave that is my bedroom I sit on a dirty stained mattress on the floor The golden glow of the street lamps outside comes through the slats of the closed blinds The TV’s off and the music is over a nightly look into depression and failure

I can’t get you out of my spiraling head My mind just won’t let you go With clawed hands and jagged fingers Trying to bleed out the sound of your siren’s call This is not how I thought things would be This is not the person that I thought was me

My head rests on the nicotine drip wall the aftermath of a two pack a day habit I’ll pay for the repairs and the cleaning party I wish there was someway I could repair you

the floor clinks as empty High Life bottles roll every step taking with tired caution white residue on the glass of my turntable a needle next to the filthy bed

I came to this city with bright eyes and I’m leaving it wishing I could die But I can’t seem to make that happen NO matter how hard I try my eyes always pop open I can’t even get suicide right and I don’t know how to get a gun

there's a picture frame thrown into the corner it’s glass shattered into jagged and bloody pieces I can’t look at the picture any longer because that smile’s so much better in person And this cheap substitute makes me irate So I burned almost the photos we had Most of them shown holding a beer

The pieces were all there I just couldn’t figure out how to get them together

I don’t sleep much It’s more like passing out the chemicals aren’t working as well anymore and my chest hurts all the time

There’s blood stains on the floor from drawing pictures with razor blade pencils new scars line my arms as I look for any source of adrenaline

You were just like morphine your fingers so warm as they trace my battered veins electric shocks down my spine as you linger on my pulse and I keep my breathing soft and smooth I want to drown here in your liquid sky I’ve never felt as good I’ve never felt as good I’ve never felt as good as your injection sites

You were more than the drugs You were a hand to maybe not pull me up but to at least hold hands as we choice death right here on your living room couch We’ll get high and have sex before we pretend that we are productive members of society

The screen is static and we never turn it off and a mixture of punk and hip hop plays from a dirty speaker Just loud enough to hear the movements never lough enough to hear the meaning not that we cared at the moment Just empty noise to play over the poke of a needle It will never as sharp as it is on that first poke

Both of us talking about getting clean as we slip in and out of this world and the next The junkie nod off is a near death experience and we chased death like little kids in the park giggling and laughing, pinwheels spinning Our own world behind a close door candles and more

You always swore that things would get better I never could understand your optimism It hung on each word like barbed wire held tight There will be no moving of philosophy in this place None of it matters We’re all going to die someday and she used to agree that death is always near but right now I’m alive Somehow I’ve found a way to survive

I’m a motherfucking cockroach