Words by: Lily Anna
I think about being young and foolish as frequently as I do washing the dishes and changing my bedsheets
I often think about romanticising the heat of summer and drinking in beer gardens,
when really I hate the lack of productivity and sticky feeling the warmth brings.
But I’d push aside my disdain just to brush past the vastness of living again.
Everyone around me is cooped up and caught in crisis
barely moving,
yet,
moving forward
consumed in the land of unknowing
where stagnancy is the collective feeling of this digital modernity.
We’re connecting with a collection of pixels
conversing in a code of abbreviations
Do you know if I’m laughing out loud?
Can I still cry “omg” if I don’t believe in a God?
My body is tiring from all this unnecessary being
barely
moving
yet
supposedly
moving forward
in this digital modernia haze
struck by constant scrolling and stimuli
the time just rolls on by
And half the time, if I’m honest,
I’ll forget to reply yet I’m,
still online
(barely moving, yet moving forward).