People Scare Me

People scare me because I’m seeing more and more the uninhabited rooms within them. Or should I say the rooms that are rented out by something else. They keep telling me stuff will work out, suggesting jobs that make me want to put a gun under my chin, and saying that’s normal. Suicidal unhappiness in your job is okay. You learn to adjust, learn to reach for that weekend, learn to have breakdowns in the bathroom, and you learn how to filter your pain and dilute it with different gelatins (social media, money, drugs, memes) until you have a happy little Jell-O mold, shiny and beautiful with no fucking substance. 

And more and more this is being elevated. People are embracing vapidity, proudly proclaiming that they are basic and petty and plastic. There’s not even an attempt to display realness, and that lack of attempt, that embrace of the superficial, the easy, is somehow being passed off as the new authenticity. How can this be? How has this always been? But it feels so amplified now. The world is so connected through wires and airwaves but distinctly separate from anything genuine. If you are always moving with the awareness of being watched, you’re not moving, you’re just hitting your marks for the camera.

Relationships, personalities, interests, all of them are being fabricated to fit the trending mold. People used to say that Western beauty spread to other countries through media, and because their media was everywhere that beauty became the ideal. Black people using skin lighteners, Asian people getting eye surgery, trying to attain a beauty that is half genetics, half fabrication. That’s what we’re doing now, but with every facet of our lives, not just our bodies. #relationshipgoals #squadgoals #parentinggoals, and in trying to reach these goals that are built on a foundation of photoshopped sand, people are losing themselves. Some were never even born. Just indoctrinated.

I don’t want to play this game, but to exist comfortably (in this fucking trap) you need a certain amount of financial support. Which means contorting myself into an employable even-tempered idiot. And I’m just freaking out…because I’m not sure I can pull it off.

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