a chilly mid morning rant, a taylor swift playlist and a repulsion for the newly found archaic sense of nothingness. it's 2016, they said. not the books, the instagram reels that are known to throw me into a paradox of spiralling into a person i never was, but the algorithm won't stop till I do. all of us are subtle schizophrenics, because meta(hell no) wants us to be. if it's 2016, im streaming taylor swift and alan walker, watching people post Closer by Chainsmokers ft Hals