f.o.m.o n. (fōmō) 1. fear of missing out; 2. a state of mental or emotional strain caused by the fear of missing out; 3. in evolutionary biology, an omnipresent anxiety brought on by our cognitive ability to recognize potential opportunities; 4. desire to do something, typically accompanied by unease; 5. a form of social anxiety - a compulsive concern that one might miss an opportunity or satisfying event, often aroused by posts seen on social media website, can be further aggravated by pre-existing mental or emotional conditions.
adapted from Urban Dictionary
i.
the seventeen-year-old girl whose parents aren’t home
(they’re never home)
the high school junior who makes her own dinner
each and every night—kraft mac n cheese
she lies on her stomach on the living room carpet
and counts the space between seconds
wondering why she wasn’t good enough
for the party on fifth avenue
the seventeen-year-old girl with separation anxiety
whose spine is inverted from the weight of isolation
takes two breaths and throws her cell phone against the wall
(she checks to make sure it isn’t cracked—it is)
snapshots of her friends—her best friends, her only friends—
glowing in the light of each other
come leaking from between the shards of glass
splattered on her floor
ii.
the thirteen-year-old boy who chokes on conversation
(unless it’s with himself, or about the star wars e.u.)
the thirteen-year-old boy who can’t keep up with his pubescent peers
brushed off as introverted and reserved
he eats his lunch in silence separated from the other boys
by three empty seats
places the heels of his hands against his ears
to block out the static
the thirteen-year-old boy with undiagnosed autism
who can only take the world in bits and pieces
catches wind of two guys excitedly recapping the force awakens
three seats down
his mind is bursting and popping with all he wants to say
(he is able to compose responses in the space between them)
they think he is slow but he is eager to catch up to them
as soon as he processes their words
iii.
the ten-year-old girl who misses her mother
(she hasn’t been around since the divorce)
the ten-year-old girl who her father calls a wildfire
screams until she feels stars in her throat
she is separated from attention by her bedroom door
locked away until she can learn to behave
desperate and trapped, she beats her fists against the walls
she hasn’t acted her age since the divorce
the ten-year-old girl who was sent to her room
for crying when she spilled her spaghetti
presses her face against her bedroom window
wailing to be set free
across the street the boys play roadside baseball
she feels her stomach burning
the ten-year-old girl who is older than most of her friends
slams her head against the glass
iv.
the twenty-seven-year-old girl who’s never been kissed
(nor ever used a tampon, despite her claims)
the twenty-seven-year-old girl who is still recovering
from the rape eleven years ago
she feels herself glowing pink and sunset orange
a fluttering blush she has never known
as she replays the conversation she had with the barista
this morning before work
the twenty-seven-year-old girl who doesn’t own a cell phone
who lives two blocks from her parents
wears the prettiest dress she owns—out of superstition—
and holds the landline in her lap
her sister leaves a message inviting her out for indian food
(an offer that causes her to salivate)
but she elects to stay in dining on microwave oatmeal
falls asleep with receiver against her ear
v.
the eighteen-year-old boy with two weeks left of class
(less, if he’s exempt from exams)
the eighteen-year-old boy with a basketball scholarship
for his dream school two states up
he hides beneath his bed with his laptop and acceptance letter
blanched in the electric light
and his feed blows up with announcement posts
from the future grads of the state university
the eighteen-year-old boy who has waited until april thirtieth
to make a commitment deposit
sees that his best friends have walked onto the state team
together—his chest tightens
he sees that some of them have chosen to dorm together
a hollow ringing in his ears
he snaps his computer shut and kicks it away
(nine hours until decision day)
vi.
the seventeen-year-old girl reeking of alcohol
(and her boyfriend’s marijuana)
the seventeen-year-old girl who is deafened by speakers
and clings to her boyfriend’s shoulder
she grins as a phone camera is shoved into her vicinity
clicks and flashes
she is momentarily blinded
at the party on fifth avenue
the seventeen-year-old girl recently diagnosed as bipolar
swallows drinks until her head swims
she sends snaps to her best friend
(wish you were here, baby!)
she passes out early and laughs it off the next morning
when her boyfriend shows her pictures
her chest is panging and she is suddenly so scared
wondering on what she missed out
