Today I find myself staring
Off into the lack of distance between my face and my monitor.
That small space holds the entire world at once.
It boasts to itself about all the things it has.
If you need anything for any project or any reason at all,
I got you covered.
All the pens and pencils and whiteboard markers and sharpies and post-it notes and post-it tabs and paperclips and staples and paper and the charger for any device you might happen to have and CF cards, stacks of them and art, some from famous artists. And a 3D printer and four sewing machines and a box of empty CD cases and a tiny Rubix cube and glow bracelets and so much makeup I could feasibly never buy makeup again and still never run out. There are 300 shirts and 200 pants and 100 bras and 100 socks and a guitar and three violins and a flute and so many bags and purses. And roller skates and yarn and crochet hooks and knitting needles and a sewing tool kit and every color of thread and…the list goes on forever.
I’m a perfect consumer, I think. This is what they want you to do. How did I become so programmed? I didn’t even have TV growing up. Avoided magazines for the most part. I read tons of books. When did I develop this urge to spend? It’s costing me a fortune.