post-modernist culture online has been detaching humanity (or at least me) from human reality/truth/stories etc.
(very sleepy writing this)
seeing things (namely traumatic but any genre of intense experience) through a screen is almost entirely detached from the real experience, specifically through the tiny screens of smartphones (the only potential outlier for this intense dissociation being cinema due to the immersive sensory experience of a dark room, massive picture, overwhelming sound) - in spite of sounding like a pretentious faux-philosopher asshole i feel like we preoccupy ourselves with social media if not in blatant dopamine farming then under the guise of education - while I've tried my best to capitalise off of the educational option to circumvent the fucking curse of doom-scrolling, the more i learn the more i feel that life experience is minutely and inefficiently communicated through short form content. where information is absorbed in small context-less bites that form a single-sided view of infinitely debated and expansive ideas - lives spent dedicated to esoteric pathways, charted and specific lifestyles, personal codes etc., are now swept up and discarded under a post-ironic sense of awareness - the late-millennial/gen z sentiment of Being In On The Joke - but at a certain point you lose the capacity to experience genuinely, and i was feel like i born into this gross egotistical sensibility
i fucking resent the vast plain of knowledge that i cannot comprehend, i resent the excuses i make, i resent my position in life and i feel that i will forever be climbing for the next goalpost (the need to outrun my youth - to be in on the ideas of those who are far more educated and experienced than me and the need to implement those ideas into my very being until i can rinse and repeat)
i'm trying so hard to be content with my progress and while i Do feel proud of my progress i have this awful cynical need to prove myself as Above The Rest in some sort of paradigmatic gifted child syndrome, some eternal curse of lifelong cognitive behavioural therapy haha
it's funny but it's not really - i don't hate myself under the notion of worthlessness, but i have this awful resentment towards my own perceived inadequacy, constantly grabbing for a rope that's just pulled out of reach again and again, sisyphean judgement for my awful self-serving suffering-artist pretension, and for what end ? my output is mediocre and average at best (get over yourself) - if i'm not struggling as a means to great and notable artistic output, what am i gaining from it ? if i create art as an emotional outlet, what marker will indicate i have reached that goal of expression ?
i think we hate (are scared of) the true comprehension of other humans being as equally alive as us - we are bred with the internalised idea of being Special, and despite not wanting to argue Against that idea, everybody being special inevitably just raises the baseline higher
what do i even mean by special ? i don't think i have any concrete answers for the expectations i set for myself - i don't think i have concrete questions to be answered - i like to think that the future will bring me clarity and wisdom and peace but i forever have the feeling that it's simply wishful thinking - how about the prediction that my future decades will be Different but not Easier - not painful in the same directions but pushing new thorns around old scar tissue - i don't think anybody has the answers to my questions, i think i could throw myself beyond my religious affiliations into blind faith and discern my own unique interpretations of answers but i don't think it would fix anything - maybe that would be a nicer way to live? everything is subjective, everything is right or wrong depending on who's watching, the fff%%%%nnn:9p0o
adding a postscript here cause i fell asleep writing there lol
i think you can track my brain drifting across branches into sleep pretty easily there hahaha