I’m going off the handle here. No filter. No polish. Just a mixed bag of thoughts that’s been boiling over—surrounding AI, authenticity, the attention economy, and what we’re all letting slip through our fingers.
This isn’t some polished thinkpiece or neatly packaged hot take. It’s a messy download. A fractured reflection. A recap of everything swirling in the back of my head as the world plugs deeper into the machine—trading grit for gloss, soul for simulation.
Call it a rant. Call it a journal. Call it a warning shot.
But above all, it’s real.
Let’s unpack this mess...
Digital Paint, Real Decay
You want irony? I am irony – I make art with Photoshop—fake-ass brush strokes.
I build mockups on preloaded templates.
A calculator isn't actually doing long division... it's artificial intelligence.
What is even real anymore...
Synthetic Hype Dreams
We’ve removed the need to write, to think, to create...
We discourage artists from even trying.
Why bother when you can type three prompts into a magic machine and get a fake album cover that looks good enough to post?
Meanwhile, the average “civilian” is pumping out nonsense they’re perfectly content with, and calling it their own. “Check out this 3D action figure of me I made!”
Automation of the Soul
Automation isn’t just for jobs anymore—it’s for our souls.
We’ve crowdsourced creativity to a hive-mind made of zeroes, ones, and blind followers with 4G connections and the attention span of a spoon.
We are manufacturing meaning without meaning.
Removing the struggle—and calling it progress.
But without the struggle, there is no edge.
And without the edge, you’re just swimming in lukewarm bathwater, bumping into the same four ideas and thinking they’re original. Some diarrhea singularity with indistinguishable pieces as the end-user product of a text prompt.
Dopamine on Demand
It’s dopamine on demand—instant-hit serotonin on tap. We’ve conditioned ourselves to chase microdoses of feel-good chemicals every few seconds, like trained lab rats hitting a button for a treat. But the treat is never real satisfaction—it’s just the illusion of it. A like, a ping, a view count, a new comment. Our brains weren’t built for this kind of feedback loop, but now we’re hooked.
We’ve built entire belief systems around these platforms—TikTok theology and Reel religion. Algorithms are the new prophets, spitting out 30-second commandments to live by. Don’t think, just feel. Don’t question, just consume. Every scroll is a tiny sermon, preaching distraction over depth.
Swipe left, swipe right. No wrong answers. Just keep moving. Keep reacting. Keep buzzing. Doesn’t matter what it is—humor, horror, heartbreak, healing—if it triggers a blip in your meatbrain, it’s content. It’s working. We’ve replaced connection with a curated feed of emotional slot machines, and no one’s asking who’s doing the programming.
We've traded self-awareness for stimulation. Substance for spectacle.
And somehow, we call this progress.
Art. Language. Purpose...Flatlined.
Symbolic Sludge
We’re devolving into a symbolic sludge.
Text now sounds like:
“ngl idk wtf lol tbh ngd fr smh 💀💀💀”
(translation: “I’ve given up. I’m a shell. And I’m kinda into it.”)
Cool.
It’s trendy to trace trends.
It’s chic to be sheep.
Originality is now a red flag.
“Tryhard” is an insult.
We used to burn the script...
Now we just scroll past it and hit accept.
How to Neuter a Revolution
And that’s the point. That’s the play. Neuter a Revolution.
There were movements once. Real ones. Real Hip-Hop. Real Punk. Underground Art. Zines. Graffiti. Substance. Conviction.
These weren’t just styles—they were survival tactics. Ways to say some real shit when no one would listen. Ways to carve space when no space was given.
But that scared them. Them being the stakeholders driving this shift. The corporate executives, investors, and tech giants who create and enforce the technologies that shape our digital lives.
Companies like Meta (formerly Facebook), Google, and Apple, along with venture capital firms that back them, hold significant power over the platforms we use daily. These entities are not just making products; they are shaping culture, communication, and the flow of information itself.
So they put our rebellious spirit in a cage, digitized it, filtered it, and fed it back to us with branding guidelines and a monetization strategy.
Now rebellion comes with a logo. Dissent gets sponsored.
You can buy the look, stream the sound, and imitate the edge—without ever scraping your hands on what made it dangerous in the first place.
Now we’re addicted to pacifiers.
Intravenously through our eyes via screens.
A constant I.V. drip of sparkle with no spine.
Outrage becomes aesthetic. Protest becomes product. And identity becomes a preset in a twisted character creator.
But here’s the thing:
There’s still a heartbeat beneath it all.
The real stuff still exists. The raw energy. The DIY grit. The unfiltered vision.
But the spirit of it? The why behind it? That’s what's lost on the younger generation.
They’re handed the image without the context. The aesthetic without the ethos.
And that’s dangerous—because one day, they’re going to need it.
They’ll need to know how to build from nothing.
How to think for themselves.
How to solve problems without an app.
How to channel chaos into creation.
That’s the skill. That’s the legacy.
If we let those skills vanish—if we fail to pass them down not as trends, but as lived practices—then when the real storm hits, the next generation won’t have the tools to survive it, let alone rebuild from it.
Addicted to the Illusion
We're all addicted to the illusion. Myself included, and all of us in some way, if we're being honest. And the twist? We love it. We cling to it.
It’s comfortable to be spoon-fed. To be entertained, validated, distracted, told what's funny and not funny. Where to go, and what to do. What to think. Decisions are hard.
It’s easier to scroll than to sit with yourself. To echo what’s trending instead of asking what’s true. That’s the seduction: safety without substance.
Because the alternative—thinking for yourself, standing alone, outside the algorithm—is fucking terrifying. Plus, I'm not doing long division if I don't have to. (*opens the calculator app)
But people don’t want truth.
They want teams.
They want Daddy Figures. Cults. Safe-spaces.
Blue ties. Red hats. Gold badges. “Allies.” Influencers. Hashtags.
The illusion of safety at the cost of freedom.
Most will trade truth for comfort every time.
Because comfort is quiet.
Comfort doesn’t bite back.
But truth?
Truth is sharp.
It cuts your ego.
It questions your tribe.
It shatters the stories you tell yourself to sleep at night.
It doesn’t care how it makes you feel—it only cares that you see.
Truth drags you into the light, whether you're ready or not.
And that’s why most people run from it—because once you know, you can’t go back.
Bureaucracy in a Costume Party
And here’s another true horror (I'm in a positive mood today, if you can't tell):
We built this prison. And we decorated it with LED lights and mood boards.
We pay rent to live inside someone else's make-believe playtime event.
Every permit. Every fine. Every stop sign. Every news story.
Every “allowed behavior.”
Every “correct opinion.”
"Is that for here or to go?"
It’s all pretend. Distractions that elude to freedom.
But you can change the wallpaper background on your phone! Neat!
We're living a bureaucratic cosplay enforced by perception, paperwork, and fear.
We’re ruled by the hallucinations of dead men in suits.
Distraction in 4K
And in between all the digital theater, and grown-ass adults play-acting as overlords, we try to find time to wipe our asses, call our moms, and remember to drink water.
And hopefully you don't forget your password...
The whole thing’s a sideshow event.
News cycle? A rerun. Ends in fear.
Politics? A puppet show with weapons.
Trending topics? Flavored static.
Stanley cups, Taylor Swift, tax season, “did you see what he posted,” your vehicles extended warranty, real estate tips from 19-year-olds, deodorant made from mushrooms...
Just layers upon layers of distraction jammed into your feed to keep you from noticing the obvious:
We were born into a game of make-believe.
The rules were written by strangers.
And we’re punished if we don’t play along.
But here’s the twist, the plot hole they don’t want you to see:
You can make your own game.
You don’t need permission.
You don’t need a platform.
You don’t need to be verified, branded, or blessed by the algorithmic gods.
You just need to wake the fuck up.
This world isn’t theirs. It’s yours.
But only if you’ve got the guts to grab the wheel and swerve off the paved path.
Make your own exit.
Crash it if you have to.
That means breaking free from group mentalities and ideological cages.
It means being brave enough to say, “I don’t know yet,” and honest enough to admit, “I’m not 100% sure.” But be willing to find out.
We must stay teachable—curious, open-minded, and humble.
We must seek out knowledge, not wait for it to be spoon-fed.
Research it. Test it. Live it. Build your own experience. Extract your own data.
You get closer to the truth by first defining what isn’t.
Eliminate the false, the fake, the performative—and what’s left might just be real.
This is how clarity is built. Not in echo chambers, but in courageous reflection.
And here’s the real kicker:
None of this is just about you.
Your struggle, your insight, your growth—they're seeds. Experiences and wisdom to pass down.
Whether or not you have kids, the next generation is watching.
Your friends' kids. Your nieces and nephews. Kids at the corner store.
They inherit what we nurture or neglect.
And if life really is cyclical, then the only way to keep what matters…
is to give it away.
This way you reap what you sow. It's no mystery why shit is so messed right now...
Toddlers with Nukes, Artists with Duct Tape
Because the people in charge?
They’re just toddlers in suits playing with nukes.
Grown babies with power complexes and PR firms.
And while they fumble with their fake crowns and paper empires, we’re down here building real worlds out of duct tape, spit, and pure unfiltered madness.
I'm Aware that you're Woke
And lastly...
Let’s get this straight: having awareness is not the same as being “woke.”
"Woke" — They hijacked that word, hollowed it out, and filled it with plastic virtue and soundbite slogans so the masses could argue in circles while the real shit burned behind the curtains.
“Woke” got turned into a brand, a corporate hashtag, a performative identity costume people wear to feel morally superior while still sucking from the same poisoned teat.
But being aware, having aware-ness? — That’s the gut-level knowing that everything’s rigged unless you break it open yourself. Build your own experience.
It’s staying vigilant, asking questions they don’t want asked, and not falling for the glittery decoys they dangle in your feed.
Awareness doesn’t need a label. It doesn’t come with a blue check.
It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable.
It doesn’t give you social clout—it gives you migraines and a gnawing sense of responsibility.
It’s real.
It’s dangerous.
And that’s why they tried to neuter it with a cute name and turn it into just another function in their divide-and-distract playbook. Red vs Blue. Classic.
The Takeaway From All This:
-
I don’t know what the fuck is going on with AI.
The world feels increasingly synthetic, disjointed, and saturated with noise—and pretending to understand it all is just another theatric. -
Fighting for attention is draining.
Competing for visibility in a feed filled with algorithm-approved mediocrity is like screaming into a hurricane and hoping your whisper matters. -
Most of it is useless dogshit.
The majority of content being consumed, shared, and celebrated is surface-level distraction, with no soul, no intent—just filler. -
These apps are on every phone, by design.
They’ve become part of our nervous system. It’s not just convenience—it’s control, normalization, dependency. -
Yes, they’re great tools—for visibility.
If you want to get seen, they’re the playing field. But that field is rigged. And even when you do get seen, you’re still dancing for metrics. -
It’s a fixed fight.
You’re expected to “build your brand” in an arena that already favors celebrities, corporations, and people with massive ad budgets.
Creativity becomes marketing. Authenticity becomes product. You’re competing against a machine—and the machine doesn’t sleep. -
Everyone’s a brand, no one’s a person.
Your worth is measured in followers, your voice is reduced to engagement rates, and your value is whatever the algorithm decides today. -
The “experts” pushing social media are cashing checks from the system.
Every “growth hack” or content strategy guru is just another cog collecting kickbacks from the same platforms they claim to help you beat. -
User-retention isn’t about helping you—it's about keeping you trapped.
More eyeballs = more profit. You're the product, not the creator. The tools aren’t neutral—they're engineered for dependency, not freedom. -
Something real got lost.
The raw, radical, rebellious energy that once defined subcultures— hip-hop, punk, zines, DIY art, underground music—is now filtered, monetized, and fed back to us with “brand alignment.” -
We’re not being taught how to think anymore.
Critical thinking, problem-solving, and creative rebellion are being replaced with templates, trends, and 10-second takes. And that’s dangerous.
The spirit of resistance matters.
Even if it feels futile, it’s crucial to keep it alive. Because one day, the next generation will need it—will need us—to remember how to fight, how to build, how to question.