Vast Crushing Opacity

Textual epithets, corrosive pixels, streaming static bodies, promiscuous data signals, recursive corporate charters, decomposing legal doctrines, automated declarations of death, wealth circulating like blood in distant limbs, history folding back on itself, exposure.

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I'd rather everything be quiet and clear, or at least have that option.

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I decide the first step is to build defenses. Modest garrisons of adblockers and encryption to obscure my weaknesses. It feels like wearing pots and pans as armor. I want to share these with my friends, because I know they're suffering too. I think a lot of people are suffering, or at least will be soon, because history's descent skews towards violence. But I'm not sure if I'm right, or if they care.

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I create guides. I host workshops. People tell me they're stronger, and that makes me happy. I don't feel like I'm very good at sharing: I hate the platforms underneath us, but cannot think of where else to stand. I could build something better, maybe, but I have to work to pay my loans and rent. I daydream of someone giving me lots of money, so I could do this all day. Until then, I have to treat time like precious jewels strung along a thin wire.

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Meanwhile, hatred. Fascism is a numb word.
There are too many numb words to process anymore.

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I don't know enough about Third-Party Doctrine or the Electronic Communications Privacy Act.
I add it to my list.
I don't know enough about Applied Consumer Psychology.
I add it to my list.
I don't know enough about NSA surveillance in Dearborne, Michigan.
I add it to my list.
I don't know enough about Callisto and sexual violence reporting platforms.
I add it to my list.
I don't know enough about TensorFlow or Bayesian statistics.
I add it to my list.
I waste hours in a mindless gorge of feeds and aggregation.
I need to fix my attention. Habits are revolutionary.
I add it to my list.
I have a list, and there's so much to do.

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It feels nice to turn my phone off and throw it on the bed.
Stress and fear do not dissipate, but I can draw from their source.
A pond reflecting sky.
A mosaic of stones beneath the waves.
Yellow leaves and broken twigs accumulating on the sand.
Strength in ecology.

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I'd wanted everything to be quiet and clear, or at least to have that option.
It never occurred to me to simply resist,
Creating the space I wish existed,
Flawed and void and yet alive.