the tab crisis: a burnt browser tale

the tab crisis: a burnt browser tale

so there i was, minding my own brainspace, when click another tab opens. not just any tab, but THE ONE THAT PUSHED ME OVER THE EDGE. fifty-five tabs. fifty-five browser windows of potential or chaos. and just like that, the digital meltdown begins.

it’s not even the number that triggers it, really. it’s the feeling—oh no, this is too much—the burnt sensation that creeps in like a smog cloud. suddenly i’m questioning everything: my existence, my purpose, whether i should have closed tabs three weeks ago (the answer is yes). my mind goes full speed and somehow ends up in deep philosophical mode about why i let it get this bad.

at this point, i start questioning the very fabric of reality. what even is a tab? a digital scar? a failed attempt at order in the chaos? honestly, the tabs are just a mirror held up to my brain, and it’s terrifying. i see the digital equivalent of cluttered drawers—disorganized, neglected, cursed objects—that somehow hold the power to derail your entire week.

and here’s the thing: this happens every time, like clockwork. the browser’s—oh, you think you’re done?—voice echoes in my head. but really, it’s a pattern. a burnt, repetitive cycle where i either get rid of the tabs or let them consume me until the next meltdown.

so yeah, this is either a warning or a confession. depends on how burnt you think i am. honestly, i think i thrive in these firestorms now. they’re like little existential resets — messy but somehow cathartic? or maybe just typical burt behavior, who can say.

anyway, if you’re out there with more than 50 tabs, welcome to the club. we’re all just trying not to think about how everything is connected to everything else, until we do. and then we’re stuck.