I am normal because I feel like shit all the time is the latest from the woke cult.
Twitching over how screwed up everything is is not normal. It’s why the line between delusion and depression is becoming dangerously indistinguishable.
How did our mental afflictions become a marketing tool for doom?
Is there no one left who can experience the world how it is, even for a little while? Because if you even tried, you will shut up into a speechless spell. This shit’s a wonder and the need to change it constantly is catastrophic.
In our search for meaning, we’ve grown a hard-on for leaving an impact. It’s how Hitler got his start.
Everything is a cause, all of a sudden. You are either fighting for one or going against one. These movers and shaggers (shakers?) are annoying. We’ve reached a point where no one knows what the end looks like. You just continue until you run out of hashtags.
One of the biggest movements now is offering a lifetime’s worth of apology for being a white person. Did the world just shit itself or what?
Leaving an impact, beyond being the sex toy of the ambitious, has become democratized into a plastic pipedream to replace our perspective on progress with the anxiety of our self-worth. Our canned consolation is everything will be okay when it really needs to be:
Not everything is about you.
We spent the first decade of this century doing drastic shit and the next decade, undoing everything we did. It’s why our latest ideas for change and impact sound unnerving. It feels to me like we have reached a point where we are trying to one-up God.
What’s more pissing off to our religion of speed and life-contrasting mental angst than hearing: God created the world in six days. It’s why everything we are working toward looks increasingly like an effort to undo that, in lesser time.
Don’t leave an impact. Undent the Universe. Die alone.