the deep

 never have i ever been bored or boring and now, i've reached pastel.

i cannot look at social media without feeling like i've had too much cake, like the cake had too much frosting, and the frosting had too much merengue, and the smell of egg is behind my eyes.

i did not grow up with television, so i was the girl who came to your house and watched it for hours until my face was numb.

my first laptop was a mac, this is a mac. the first had no internal modem and a roller ball mouse. i used it for college. this mac has been with me since 2015. it was lighter when first purchased, an "airbook" and the battery lasted for 8 hours. it weighs a little more now and the battery lasts about an. 

and i'm bored of it. i'm bored of the little screens with all the little wonderful things it has to show me, the recipes, the gossip, the scoops, the fakes and the facts, the flat, angry backhands of trolls, the punishment of the heroes, the financing of the wars, the children in peril, the rights of the genders and the pronouns, the before and afters, the mental mazes, their passwords, the touch screens, the internet of things, the talking houses, the self driving cars, the noise of a million external modems all logging in at the same time.

a tiny butterfly lands to my left. it is brown and has markings on the back that are blue red and black. it's odd and delicate and the wind makes the tiny protrusions on its wings flitter. 

i'm so tired of interneting, of flying here and there through machines, of the generous helpings of information that i expose myself to on a daily basis. that i share in the hopes that informing as many possible will create a hole from which to extract ourselves from illusion.