On Substack: My brain says, stay. My heart says, go.
(Originally posted via Substack today before account deletion)
First of all, thanks a ton for subscribing to Split Ends!
There are 14 of you, and I’m helplessly wondering what made you hit ‘subscribe.’
Do we know each other? Hi, mom! Just kidding, I’ll never share this with her. Probably. Are you a feminist artist, too? In love with one? Are you also ex-Mormon, or curious about us, because we’re weird—weirdly on TV a lot? Had you consumed all possible cult content like me, and were you scouring the internet for more?
Whatever the reason, I’m glad you did.
I joined the platform around this time last summer—marking approximately one year of lying about being off social media.
How does this make me feel? Helpless, doomed to scroll. But inspired, too. There are brilliant voices here. I want to think like them.
How does the platform make me think? Well, when my mind opens, it constricts twice the same. Mentally, I'm stocking canned goods in my basement, like I’m Mormon again. (Fun!) It’s the feed, really. People saying the same thing every day, in a slightly different way. Us devouring it devouring us. I have to escape the feed.
So I’ll be hiding out here. It’s where my posts will live. Subscribe—I’ll email you when I write more. I’d love for you to come to my party. The vibe is: a few buds have bailed on the teen dance and are sublimating their FOMO with crafts. (Cool! Teen dance is a metaphor for the algorithm, FYI.)
There will be fairy bread and mac n cheese from a box (my toddler can contest).