Imagine the entirety of your digital existence plotted out before you: your accounts and passwords your avatars your contacts every exchange of written dialogue the full history of your logged interests, banal and forgettable and closely held the note where you scrawled once-urgent word fragments that now make zero sense to you the rabbit holes you fell down or the minor obsession or the thing that connected to the thing that led you to decide to do another thing that became a part of a part of a part of who you are, or a part of who you are to some people, or a part of who you are only to yourself, barely recognizable in the light of day.
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