Over Sharing

6:58 a.m. A YouTube video.

7:01 a.m. A comedian clip. You have to watch this.

7:04 a.m. A dating article.

7:09 a.m. A screenshot of a text someone else received.

7:14 a.m. A dentist bill, forwarded for emotional support.

7:22 a.m. A podcast episode. Just the first twenty minutes.

7:31 a.m. A follow-up text asking if I watched the YouTube video from 6:58.

I haven't had coffee. I haven't brushed my teeth. I'm not completely convinced I'm awake. Yet somehow I already have homework. Watch this. Read this. Listen to this. Tell me what you think.

9:03 a.m. A meme.

9:47 a.m. A reel about red flags in relationships.

10:12 a.m. An article about attachment styles.

10:13 a.m. A follow-up article about the first article.

11:28 a.m. A screenshot of someone else's Instagram story.

11:44 a.m. A voice memo explaining the screenshot.

12:02 p.m. A restaurant menu. We are not going to this restaurant.

12:16 p.m. A meme about the restaurant menu.

1:38 p.m. A video. "Only 90 seconds, I promise."

1:39 p.m. A second video. No time estimate given.

2:55 p.m. A third video. Described as "life changing."

3:17 p.m. A podcast clip about modern loneliness.

4:02 p.m. A screenshot of a dating profile with no context.

4:44 p.m. A New York Times article requiring a subscription.

I used to think over-sharing meant your childhood. Your divorce. Your feelings. Now it's everyone else's — videos, memes, articles, podcasts, screenshots, restaurant menus.

Somewhere along the way, "I thought of you" became an assignment.

6:11 p.m. A reel.

6:49 p.m. A TikTok that is somehow also a reel.

7:22 p.m. A meme about people who send too many memes.

8:03 p.m. An article I will definitely read later.

8:31 p.m. A podcast clip, part two of this morning's podcast clip.

9:08 p.m. A screenshot. A voice memo. A follow-up text asking if I got the voice memo.

9:44 p.m. One last thing before bed.

9:58 p.m. Okay, this is actually the last one.

10:17 p.m. Found one more.

10:41 p.m. Going to sleep now. But first.

I was prepared to be annoyed by all of it until I checked my own text history. Oops. Apparently, I had sent thirty minutes of videos, three articles, screenshots, and commentary on every single one.

I'll read yours if you read mine.