This isn’t me.

I am a flowering of

autonomy and freedom;

not an the end product.

not of procedures

not trained in

compliance and docility.

Rob Horning writes One accepts structuring codes in exchange for an internal psychic coherence.

This isn’t me,

I want to say.

He writes Becoming yourself is not a growth process but a surrender of possibilities that we learn to regard as egregious, unbecoming.

That “Being yourself” is inherently limiting.

Being yourself is inherently limiting,

I repeat.

I repeat like a parrot,

liberated within my cage

my gilded cage.

I wrote once I am actively transforming and slipping from the hands of tradition.

What/When does the transformation end?

When/How can the self transform into an other?

Not a small thing!

I share myself

with you and you

and reluctantly, you.

I share my self, my parts of self,

mid-transformation, transfixed:

exodus won’t yield freedom.

A gasp for air.

Connectivity atomizes rather than collectivizes.

I share parts of myself

And I cannot breathe.

You can go offline

I see myself for sale on a marketplace.

The internet isn’t the problem

I am sold to the highest bidder.

Capitalism is the problem.

I am sold to the highest bidder.

a single profile for our singular identity

I sit on a shelf collecting dust.

Italicized portions of the poem has been taken from the following article by Rob Horning: https://thenewinquiry.com/blog/social-media-is-not-self-expression/

I hope that he does not mind.