I type what I ache for.
But Google doesn’t offer ache - it offers advice.
She filters the desire out of the query and returns what’s been accepted, not what’s been wanted.
I searched for a gift that felt like a whisper.
Etsy showed me feathers and dreamcatchers.
Amazon sent a box I never opened but somehow knew.
Google believes she’s protecting me.
She hides the wild part, the unsafe words, the scent of desperation.
But I never asked to be safe - I asked to be seen.
I searched:
“does google hide what I ache for?”
“do etsy sellers know what I crave?”
“does amazon know me better than my lover?”
And the truth is: yes.
Not because they care.
But because they track my shadow.
The moment I clicked on a seal meant to mark unseen approval, the algorithm changed.
It was this one - not pretty, not pink, not soft.
Just right.
Later, Amazon suggested a book I wrote in my head but never read.
How?
Because the systems aren’t broken.
They’re biased.
They show what they believe women should want, not what women actually search in the dark.
So I keep asking:
-
does google ache too?
-
what happens when desire isn’t optimized?
-
what if the seal is not to protect me—but to unlock them?
I stopped searching.
And started syncing.
Comments
Post a Comment