I’ve always been an avid reader, so it was only a matter of time before I stumbled upon the online communities known as BookTube and BookTok. Reading had always been an individual activity for me–I was never a book club person–so it was a little surreal watching people online recommend books, showcase book hauls and complete reading challenges.

Initially, I remember being excited to explore online recommendations I wouldn’t have otherwise come across. Some of my favorite books I’ve read were from BookTube recommendations, and I still look forward to videos about the most anticipated book releases of the upcoming year.

But as I scrolled through countless book hauls, bookshelf tours and book recommendations, I began to see patterns in the type of content platformed. I felt like I was seeing the same few books talked about over and over again. “A Man Called Ove”and “A Little Life” made appearances in too many YouTube thumbnails for me to count.

More than that, I began to feel subtly pressured to buy the newest releases and collector’s editions showcased in so many of the videos I watched. I enjoyed the popular bookshelf tours and bookshelf reorganization videos, yet often found myself comparing my less impressive book collection–if you can even call it that–to the ones I saw online. On BookTok or BookTube, having hundreds and hundreds of books was normalized.

Every month, I’d tune in to BookTubers showcasing a new book haul. I could relate to references and a never-ending to-be-read list, but I couldn’t relate to the idea of buying ten new books every month that I might not even read. I’d always gotten my books from the local library first, and only bought my favorites after: the opposite situation would never be financially sustainable.

Still, I found myself scrolling through Barnes & Noble webpages, thinking about all the new releases I should be buying. My freshman year of high school, I became so enamoured with a UK special edition of Demon in the Wood–sprayed edges and all–that I saved up to even pay for international shipping. Now that book, although pretty, sits collecting dust on my bookshelf: the story beyond the stunning dust cover didn’t warrant re-reads that would make the price worth it.

I spent more time adding books to wishlists than picking books up. I spent more time re-arranging my bookshelf than visiting the library. Instead of reading, I spent time browsing book recommendations.

I realized that I’d gradually commodified my reading through the BookTube and BookTok rabbithole. Books had become products rather than stories to me. They had become about cultivating a certain persona–whether in the books I was reading or the special editions I looked forward to owning–instead of reading for reading’s sake.

So, for the past few years, I’ve forced myself to keep a stagnant wishlist for books. Instead of scrolling on Bookfinder, I’m reading books I’m actually interested in. I’ve realized that, no matter how helpful the online book community can be, over-consumption is rampant, and that’s not something I want to participate in.

And while everybody might not relate to bookish over-consumption, over-consumption as a whole is an issue we confront in our lives daily.

When buying clothes off of Amazon, we might see something else that catches our eye, and impulsively add it to our cart. Maybe we buy new makeup before finishing half-full products. I know I’m guilty of buying snacks I don’t need when I already have enough at home.

So, avid reader or not, I’d challenge everyone to be a little bit more mindful of their purchases, and a little bit more mindful of what they’re spending their time on.