today i wondered if my exposure is a hope of trying to be remembered because i fear this type of end; take 2: being lonely is quite a window to overshare stuff online, specially when i noticed i tend to have a bird-like behavior of showing myself as a flirt. to who am i flirting? Giovanna: the girl who did what she did. if she was the one stalking my Instagram stories i wonder how dumb would actually to go on a date if this possibility ever exist. i pray for her staying as a placeholder for an unknown name, of course. i can't pardon myself for not following the lead of that mysterious woman that begged me into deleting my Instagram way before 5 or 10 poems to her. i'm bitter right now, she's long gone to a country i don't even remember the name! take 3: once i had a discussion with dad about the future having no privacy and everyone being able to access everyone's files. an utopia of truths, that everyone don't have to hide anything because everything was provided and mind you: everything isn't like a Buggati and an expensive and big living room in an apartment. the future people will read historical books about riches's house and laugh how creep and non-private is to have something big to the point you need workers cleaning the space for you otherwise that would be your main and maybe only job. how uncool is to use expensive shoes that are literally a merda to walk more than 2 kilometers and what's the purpose to hang gold into your neck, specially when they probably never thought about how rare these are, not only on finding or refining but the whole cosmic scheme that forged the substance via burning star-like temperatures and its travel as a meteoroid that had the grace to hit Earth, probably without hurting a single lifeform. the piece of tech i'm holding in my hands has gold components at the right scale to make me feel the richest human alive, luck and in love to whoever coming to suffocate out this apathetic state of feeling marginalized by my own taste, thus by my own specie vertebrate