The consumer in me

I never asked

to be called a consumer.

It sounds like something

to be measured,

regulated,

adjusted in a spreadsheet.

Something meant

to do its job quietly.

We talk about consumer confidence,

consumer protection,

consumption as growth.

As if the world stops

when we stop buying.

GDP rises.

The planet shrinks.

We know this.

Consumption is extraction.

Consumption is waste.

Consumption is everything

we claim we must reduce.

And still.

Who doesn’t want enough money

for a little ease?

A quieter car.

Food that tastes like surplus.

A holiday where thoughts

are allowed to rest.

I want to be called human.

Or citizen.

Something that implies responsibility.

But I also want enough.

Maybe a bit more than enough.

I know

most of what I buy

won’t make me happy.

I buy it anyway.

It feels briefly right.

As if something clicks into place.

I also know

it isn’t good for the planet.

But in the grand scheme,

my small purchase

feels infinitely small.

I don’t have much buying power.

But if I did,

I’d probably use it.

So no,

I’m not different.

Maybe the point isn’t

that we’re wrong.

Maybe the point is

that we look for safety

and happiness

in something

we already know

can’t hold us.

/ Simon Philip