If it weren't electronic, my mail would bury me every day. I do clean up, I unsubscribe from all of the needless subscription lists I end up on with no recollection of ever signing up in the first place, but somehow it takes such a short time to have my internet pipes clogged with this trash once again. The only real pesky weed is LinkedIn. I tried stopping their emails a dozen of times, but no luck. They outright ignore my pleas. I don't know why I expected such a blatantly capitalistic site to understand consent.
I made LinkedIn for the stupidest reason possible. There was a person I was envying, and this person has a LinkedIn. That's it. I didn't even want to stalk them, I just wanted to have one too. Then, I proceeded to put in 0 effort to make my profile viable.
Envy is a weird animal, I tell you. Only tonight, while I detangled my hair over my studybooks, did I look it in the eye. Where I don't feel connection, I feel envy. Like a hungry, miserable creature, I want to slurp 'em up, I want to take up parts of them until I become them, until there is no more otherness between us. Such an anxiety I feel in the face of disconnect. I need to stop myself from leaping, grabbing hastily anything of them I can get my hands on, spilling what I have as I go.
It's like a tricky puzzle, like a hard level in a game, this feeling. I got stuck infront of it countless times, but I do think I have a piece of the map here with me tonight.