pixelated

May or may not expound on this later on through another essay i'll write. Don't know.

Earlier today, I was going to create a carrd or strawpage that had all of my "publicly personal" social media accounts on different platforms. I have Repov, River, Posting2, and other sites all for different reasons and purposes... but then I realized that so much of me is segmented through different funnels of the internet. So much of my life has been uploaded to non-existent places.

For a long while, the 'Vent' app used to be my diary. It shut down but I'm not going to explain the lore here. It's a decade-long infovomit waiting to happen every time "niche" and "app" become the topic of discussion... that place used to be where I'd go to when the world felt unkind. It self-nuked itself though. That's partly why I'm here.

I'm scattered across the internet like a nomad. My humor's on TikTok and Instagram, my thoughts on River, and my geek-ish musings on Repov. Some people know me on one, most people don't hear from me at all. It's so weird to feel like I've immortalized myself but none of my words feel alive. Lived. Lived in. Like I'm missing a body.

Do you know if the person you're interacting with online isn't AI? "You think the government wouldn't do that, but yes, they would." Point is, I pour so much of my soul into what I write but I really don't know what I am after all of these sentences reach my profile. So to think that creating a strawpage or a Carrd is gonna help me find some semblance of intrapersonal framing...

We ask each other who we are past our beauty, past what we own and what we give; who we are past our bodies... if I even have a body.

You know what, maybe this is the journal entry. It'll always sound unfinished because I'll never be able to completely place this feeling.