Your writing inspired me to write this in reflection:
I feel uncomfortably seen and called out. I do attach so much meaning to physical things. I do have hoards of photos and videos, and have for years. I cling to it all, especially my digital identity. I have had one for ten years, ever since I made my first instagram at 14. I have been sharing my thoughts, feelings, memories, labels, every micro-identity and exploiting facets of them for social media presentation.
Where is the line between sharing photos and projecting an image? Is it all a projection? Can anything on social media be authentic? The line of virtual vulnerability feels thin, like a tight rope between the real world and the internet.
I want to share my writing, which in some cases are passages taken straight from my grief. In others, they are carefully crafted melodies. Illustrating years of complex battles both internal and external.
I want to share my happiness - that is hard earned after years of believing it was not in the cards for me. After years of living a self-fulfilling prophecy, digging my own grave, I realize I am alive and can choose to live and find happiness and healing.
I know sharing is not necessary. I know I don't need to prove I am happy and doing well. Every time feels like a shout into the past, hoping the part of me that remembers her brokenness and listless grief heard it and knows there is an end in sight. Hoping the echo will travel through time and she'll hear a ring of promise. And in turn, as I share my healing and writing about it, that someone else hears it, too.
So I will continue living in this contradictory world. Of performance and projections, searching to find the line of authenticity in a world of digital identity.
I found this substack through tiktok and you just captured me; all my lists of lists, all the photos that I fear will get lost in time, all the paper, drawings, books, emojis, memes, messages, videos, numbers, objects that I owned, words, handwriting of people, sticks, old clothes, projects... all the things that I wish to live longer, to not be forgot by people, to wait a little longer to go away, to not forget, to hold with me to death. I feel like I am holding them, not letting them to fade, or is it that they are holding me, not letting ME to fade… I want people to know them, to know they existed, even though they may never thought of it, someone did, someone put love and care into all those things. That’s what I tell myself when I see all my lists. Isn’t it? To live is to remember? (using a quote I held) Future self, aren’t you happy? Will you forgive me for my sins? Will you stop your demands? Will you let me go? Will you ever stop so I can finally reach you? Will you forgive me for asking forgetfulness/Lethe to wait a little bit? Shouldn’t you? Can’t the future just wait? Will you care for the things I cared so much? Will they flourish? Will I ever take control back? Will I ever let them grow? Will I ever? Will I ever release them from me? Will I ever release you? Thanks for the message. Your words touched my heart.
i first stumbled upon an excerpt of this on tiktok and i’m eternally grateful. your words are magic! i am so moved by your musings. thank you thank you thank you!!!! wishing you a year of wonder and whimsy 🍀⭐️💌🌀
I grew up in a house that was always filled, and when we moved, boxes sat in the hallway begging to be unpacked for years. I am always in between. The more I can fit into my apartment, I feel content but there are projects tucked away abandoned. I lose time consuming digitally on what to do next
Beautiful writing, and it deeply resonates with me. Thank you for sharing and capturing the essence of this “thing”/compulsion I’ve been struggling with for so long.
I was reflecting on this piece today and vaguely remember doing a quick journaling about this years ago. Found it in my notes app from 2019, lol. “When I loan a bunch of books from the library, I rent too many, more than I could ever read in those two weeks, and further more, I’m taking pictures of books I couldn’t carry, for reading in the future. Instead of focusing on the now, what’s inspiring me now and what I could actually realistically read NOW. Representation of my subconscious daily HABITS that I need to be more aware of and break.” Did I break them? Naur.
Not sure I can wait another year either <3 well done.
Came here through tiktok and I see similarities with my 5.5k+ pins on my Cosmos (Pinterest but better) and my terrabites of photos from decades ago all the way to a minute ago when I filmed my dog.
Organising things helps quite the noise and chaos in my head I imagine
i surely wasn’t expecting to feel so seen and understood by something on a sunday evening. even less when the reason for this was a tik tok recommendation. bless the algorithm i guess!
Came over from TikTok, and now I've got 7 quotes from here in my notebook. İronic, İ know, a list of quotes from an article on living instead of hoarding, but I like to look back on these when I don't want to use screens. Just wanted to say this article spoke to me in a way that's made my whole day, and thank you!
as someone who’s parents kept a lot of things and in turn is verrrry uncomfortable with physical clutter:
I keep so many watch lists and reading lists especially from TikTok it was nice to just appreciate your writing in the moment and be pulled out of the daydreaming of my future self
I saw an excerpt of this on TikTok. I’m glad the algorithm did at least one thing right today. Reading it made me self-analyze. Why do I continuously hoarde things, digitally and physically? Why do I attach such sentiment to those items? I subconsciously screenshotted then had to stop myself. This was very beautiful to read. Much love🫶🏾
i always see myself in your writing, chloe!!!!! ✨ read this piece with my best friend on my bed surrounded by my sofia coppola-coded clutter... we were mmm-ing and ah-ing at so many of the lines and i will confess that i resisted the urge to screenshot several passages (the digital hoarder won in the end) 🧳 appreciate your words always. take care + wishing you ease.
Your writing inspired me to write this in reflection:
I feel uncomfortably seen and called out. I do attach so much meaning to physical things. I do have hoards of photos and videos, and have for years. I cling to it all, especially my digital identity. I have had one for ten years, ever since I made my first instagram at 14. I have been sharing my thoughts, feelings, memories, labels, every micro-identity and exploiting facets of them for social media presentation.
Where is the line between sharing photos and projecting an image? Is it all a projection? Can anything on social media be authentic? The line of virtual vulnerability feels thin, like a tight rope between the real world and the internet.
I want to share my writing, which in some cases are passages taken straight from my grief. In others, they are carefully crafted melodies. Illustrating years of complex battles both internal and external.
I want to share my happiness - that is hard earned after years of believing it was not in the cards for me. After years of living a self-fulfilling prophecy, digging my own grave, I realize I am alive and can choose to live and find happiness and healing.
I know sharing is not necessary. I know I don't need to prove I am happy and doing well. Every time feels like a shout into the past, hoping the part of me that remembers her brokenness and listless grief heard it and knows there is an end in sight. Hoping the echo will travel through time and she'll hear a ring of promise. And in turn, as I share my healing and writing about it, that someone else hears it, too.
So I will continue living in this contradictory world. Of performance and projections, searching to find the line of authenticity in a world of digital identity.
Glad to have found this on TikTok, truly.
Tomorrow's about questioning my relationship with lists and archives.
I found this substack through tiktok and you just captured me; all my lists of lists, all the photos that I fear will get lost in time, all the paper, drawings, books, emojis, memes, messages, videos, numbers, objects that I owned, words, handwriting of people, sticks, old clothes, projects... all the things that I wish to live longer, to not be forgot by people, to wait a little longer to go away, to not forget, to hold with me to death. I feel like I am holding them, not letting them to fade, or is it that they are holding me, not letting ME to fade… I want people to know them, to know they existed, even though they may never thought of it, someone did, someone put love and care into all those things. That’s what I tell myself when I see all my lists. Isn’t it? To live is to remember? (using a quote I held) Future self, aren’t you happy? Will you forgive me for my sins? Will you stop your demands? Will you let me go? Will you ever stop so I can finally reach you? Will you forgive me for asking forgetfulness/Lethe to wait a little bit? Shouldn’t you? Can’t the future just wait? Will you care for the things I cared so much? Will they flourish? Will I ever take control back? Will I ever let them grow? Will I ever? Will I ever release them from me? Will I ever release you? Thanks for the message. Your words touched my heart.
i first stumbled upon an excerpt of this on tiktok and i’m eternally grateful. your words are magic! i am so moved by your musings. thank you thank you thank you!!!! wishing you a year of wonder and whimsy 🍀⭐️💌🌀
I grew up in a house that was always filled, and when we moved, boxes sat in the hallway begging to be unpacked for years. I am always in between. The more I can fit into my apartment, I feel content but there are projects tucked away abandoned. I lose time consuming digitally on what to do next
Beautiful writing, and it deeply resonates with me. Thank you for sharing and capturing the essence of this “thing”/compulsion I’ve been struggling with for so long.
I was reflecting on this piece today and vaguely remember doing a quick journaling about this years ago. Found it in my notes app from 2019, lol. “When I loan a bunch of books from the library, I rent too many, more than I could ever read in those two weeks, and further more, I’m taking pictures of books I couldn’t carry, for reading in the future. Instead of focusing on the now, what’s inspiring me now and what I could actually realistically read NOW. Representation of my subconscious daily HABITS that I need to be more aware of and break.” Did I break them? Naur.
Not sure I can wait another year either <3 well done.
Came here through tiktok and I see similarities with my 5.5k+ pins on my Cosmos (Pinterest but better) and my terrabites of photos from decades ago all the way to a minute ago when I filmed my dog.
Organising things helps quite the noise and chaos in my head I imagine
i surely wasn’t expecting to feel so seen and understood by something on a sunday evening. even less when the reason for this was a tik tok recommendation. bless the algorithm i guess!
Came over from TikTok, and now I've got 7 quotes from here in my notebook. İronic, İ know, a list of quotes from an article on living instead of hoarding, but I like to look back on these when I don't want to use screens. Just wanted to say this article spoke to me in a way that's made my whole day, and thank you!
your not gonna tell us the article💔??
This article😅 İ understood it to be about making most of life as it is now, instead of waiting to be a perfect person
as someone who’s parents kept a lot of things and in turn is verrrry uncomfortable with physical clutter:
I keep so many watch lists and reading lists especially from TikTok it was nice to just appreciate your writing in the moment and be pulled out of the daydreaming of my future self
I saw an excerpt of this on TikTok. I’m glad the algorithm did at least one thing right today. Reading it made me self-analyze. Why do I continuously hoarde things, digitally and physically? Why do I attach such sentiment to those items? I subconsciously screenshotted then had to stop myself. This was very beautiful to read. Much love🫶🏾
i always see myself in your writing, chloe!!!!! ✨ read this piece with my best friend on my bed surrounded by my sofia coppola-coded clutter... we were mmm-ing and ah-ing at so many of the lines and i will confess that i resisted the urge to screenshot several passages (the digital hoarder won in the end) 🧳 appreciate your words always. take care + wishing you ease.