Being online is like printing your own stationery, but in the most delightfully futile and ironically narcissistic way. It’s as if we believe that customizing our digital presence will make a profound difference in a sea of superficiality.

Just like printing your own stationery, being online gives you the illusion of control and autonomy, allowing you to craft your digital persona as if anyone truly cares. We can meticulously design our websites, meticulously curate our social media feeds, and meticulously pretend that we have an audience eagerly waiting for our every update. Oh, the sweet delusion of self-importance!

And let’s not forget the joy of accessibility and reach. We can share our banal musings, mundane photos, and uninspiring creations with the entire world. How marvelous! Because clearly, the world was waiting with bated breath to hear our thoughts on the latest episode of a forgettable reality show or our grainy, filtered pictures of a mediocre meal.

Of course, being online offers us the timeless gift of permanence and documentation. We can proudly archive our digital interactions and achievements for future generations to ignore. Because what better way to leave a lasting legacy than by having a virtual footprint of unremarkable blog posts and regrettable Facebook statuses?

But let’s not be fooled by the veneer of significance. Being online, just like printing your own stationery, is ultimately an exercise in futility. We can pretend to be influencers, curators of our own little online kingdoms, but deep down, we know that it’s all an elaborate charade. Our digital presence is merely a drop in the vast ocean of pointless content, where our voices blend into a chorus of mediocrity.

So go ahead, print your own stationery and be online. Embrace the absurdity and revel in the irony. After all, if we can’t laugh at the comical insignificance of it all, what else is there to do in this beautifully banal digital landscape?