The latest scam I’ve fallen for is hipster vitamins, sold on Instagram. They have irreverent copy and millennial pink packaging. So now I take four a day.

I fall for these things because I need someone to limit my choices. I need a pink-labelled bottle that says “morning” and another that says “night”. I need clear instructions and simplicity.

Yet still, I search for more.

Today I took a quiz by a different brand to discover my ideal vitamin prescription. These ones come packaged in daily-dose sachets with your name printed on. These ones are tailored to your age and gender and primary health concerns. I didn’t need to muddy the waters of my vitamin situation, but I can’t resist a quiz. I can’t resist the prospect of self-revelation.

As each quiz concludes, the line between reality and falsehood gets ever thinner. It’s more and more difficult to tell when you’re being advertised to, being lied to. I have failed a test about adverts. I have failed several tests about the news. I have failed a test that determined my right to British citizenship. The internet holds all the cards.

But I don’t give up. Other quizzes have proved more productive – I know I’m type A, a Questioner, INTJ, Ravenclaw. The internet is gracious in victory. It tells me who I am.

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^{A version of this post was sent by email on the 15th December 2018 as part of Internet Care Package – a weekly memoir project in the form of a newsletter. It also includes links to the best things I’ve found on the internet each week and occasional updates on my theatremaking. This blog is a select archive of those emails. Subscribe to get them right in your inbox.}

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