Info

Posts tagged life

Choose another tag?

Before power, there was persuasion.
Before persuasion, there was language.

Every illusion begins there.

Advertising tells you you’re incomplete.
Politics tells you you’re powerless.
Religion tells you you must be forgiven.
The algorithm tells you you must be seen.

Different voices, same message:
You are not enough as you are.

We rarely notice how fluently we speak in our own captivity.
How we repeat the words that keep us small.
How easily language becomes a leash disguised as logic.

“Consumer.”
“Follower.”
“User.”
We internalized those words until they became identities.
We built empires of meaning on vocabularies of control.

And then we wondered why the world felt hollow.

Language isn’t neutral.
It carves the invisible architecture of perception.
It tells us what is desirable, what is dangerous, what is divine.
Say a word enough times and it becomes a mirror.
Look into it long enough and it becomes a cell.

Advertising doesn’t sell products. It sells permission to exist.
Politics doesn’t sell vision. It sells fear of the other.
Religion doesn’t sell redemption. It sells the illusion of brokenness.
And the algorithm? It doesn’t sell attention. It sells identity on lease.

Write them down, word by word, until you see the pattern.
See how every system manufactures emotion through repetition.
See how “choice” became “consumption,”
how “connection” became “content,”
how “freedom” became “brand.”

We didn’t lose ourselves by accident.
We outsourced our vocabulary.

To break the spell, we must reclaim the word.
Stop parroting the phrases that keep us compliant.
Stop mistaking slogans for truths.
Stop confusing visibility with worth.

Freedom doesn’t start with rebellion.
It starts with authorship.

The moment you name the illusion, you step outside it.
The moment you write your own sentence, you stop being written by someone else.

Maybe the future isn’t about better algorithms or louder slogans.
Maybe it’s about quieter words…truer ones.
Words that return us to presence instead of performance.
That remind us to be before we brand.

Because if every illusion begins with language,
then every awakening begins with a new one.

So ask yourself:
Whose words are living in your mouth?
Who profits from your definition of “enough”?
And what truth could begin, if you spoke in your own voice?

From Your Job to Your Politicians, Welcome to the Big Con

Look around. School? Scam. Work? Scam. Democracy? Don’t get me started. From birth, you’re signed into a contract you never agreed to—and the ink’s invisible.

The Scam of Education

They told you education was freedom. Translation: a lifetime subscription to debt. In the U.S., the average graduate owes forty grand for a piece of paper that certifies one skill: obedience. You don’t buy knowledge you buy permission. Knowledge is free at a library. But you won’t get hired unless you pay six figures to prove you can sit still and take it. That’s not education. That’s extortion dressed in a cap and gown.

The Scam of Work

Welcome to the office. Eight hours of pretending to work, three hours of meetings about nothing, two hours making PowerPoints nobody reads. Economist David Graeber called it: “bullshit jobs.” Jobs that exist to justify bosses who exist to justify other bosses. And your paycheck? It’s hush money. It says: “Don’t ask if any of this matters. Just cash it.”

The Scam of Consumer Life

Your phone breaks on schedule, your clothes unravel by design, your apps charge you to exist. Even rebellion is monetized punk is a T-shirt at H&M, mindfulness is a $300 retreat. You’re not a citizen. You’re a subscriber. You’re not living. You’re leasing.

The Scam of Politics

Ah, democracy. Every four years, you pick your favorite liar. Ninety-one percent of U.S. elections and everywhere else, are won by the candidate with the most money . That’s not choice it’s an auction. Every speech is a product demo, every promise is vaporware. “Hope and Change.” “Make it Great Again.” Doesn’t matter. Different logos, same scam.

The Meta-Scam: Hope

And here’s the cruelest trick: they even scam your hope. Hustle culture says grind harder. Spirituality says manifest harder. Politicians say vote harder. It’s always on you to fix what they broke. And if it doesn’t work? They’ll sell you a premium upgrade.


So yeah. Is everything a scam? Pretty much. From your first day of school to your last ballot, life is one big pyramid scheme with better branding.

The truth? You were born into a scam. The only choice you’ve ever had is whether you sell it, buy it, or burn it down. What do you think?


Let’s get this out of the way: I’m not asking for immortality. Not now. Not here. Not on this melting rock with Wi-Fi.

One life is already more than enough. In fact, if there’s a cosmic suggestion box somewhere, I’d like to formally request an early checkout. Nothing dramatic. Just… a quiet fade-out, maybe during a meeting that could’ve been an email.

Because here’s the truth: existing in 2025 feels like being trapped inside a group project with 8 billion people who are just winging it and barely surviving . Our governments are stage plays directed by lobbyists. Our jobs with the help of AI have become meaningless, they now feel like VR simulations of purpose. And the planet? The planet is throwing very obvious signs that it’s done with us—but we keep clapping back with paper straws and LinkedIn posts about ESG goals that most companies do not even follow and they just greenwash

We treat burnout like a badge of honor and unpaid internships like opportunities. Meanwhile, billionaires are trying to leave Earth, which is honestly the first time trickle-down economics has ever made sense.

Let’s start with the jobs.

We’re not working—we’re serving time. We don’t start our days, we brace for them.

Your boss says, “We’re a family,” which is true if your family also gaslights you, forgets your birthday, and schedules 4pm calls titled “Quick Sync” that ruin your will to live. Most of them are just horrible people with money and nothing else.

You write emails that sound like ransom notes:
“Just following up.”
“Circling back.”
“Let me know your thoughts.”
Translation: I’m screaming into the void and hoping someone replies before I lose my health insurance and my sanity.

The dating scene?

It’s not a scene. It’s a digital flea market of trauma responses and filtered delusions. We swipe like gamblers at a slot machine, praying for dopamine. Someone texts “LOL” and you’re supposed to feel loved. Someone ghosts you and you wonder if it’s growth. You spend three weeks texting someone who can’t spell “your” before they vanish like your pension.

The economy?

A satire. A fever dream.

Rent is extremely high in relation to your wage for a glorified closet with “natural light” (read: a window the size of a tortilla). Your neighbor’s an aspiring DJ who believes in himself more than your country believes in healthcare that most governments are now destroying.

You’re paying 9€ for a smoothie that tastes like regret and blended ice. You ask if it has mango. The barista nods solemnly. It doesn’t.

Meanwhile, your bank app reminds you that you spent €80 last week trying to feel something on a bad date, and the rest on food that lies to you.

And the planet?

We are literally watching the world burn—and responding with infographics and tote bags.

Ocean temperatures are boiling. Species are vanishing. And we’re still arguing whether “thoughts and prayers” count as climate policy.

Governments stage press conferences while wildfires stage reality checks. Billionaires build rockets, not reform. And every time something collapses, someone says, “No one could’ve predicted this.”

Really?
Because I’ve seen three Black Mirror episodes and one weather app.

The performance of pretending

We’re all actors now. Pretending it’s fine.
Pretending we’re passionate about digital transformation and AI
Pretending we’re excited about our quarterly goals.
Pretending we’re thriving on “hustle culture” when we’re just afraid to stop and feel the dread crawling up our spines.

We don’t live.
We optimize.
We curate.
We reply-all.

And then, at night, we collapse into beds, doom-scroll until our brains melt, and dream of inbox zero and existential freedom.

So no, I don’t want another life.

I don’t need reincarnation. I need a refund.
One life is already too much paperwork, too many passwords, and too many people saying, “Let’s circle back on that.”

I’ve had enough.
Enough of the charades, the fake people, the collapsing systems, the performative empathy, the inspirational quotes printed on ethically questionable t-shirts.
Enough pretending this is fine. It’s not.
It’s bizarre. It’s broken. It’s brilliant in how absurd it is. And we’re all just improvising while the curtain burns.

So here’s to you, fellow scroller.
You’re not crazy.
The world is.
And you?
You’re just trying to make it to 5pm.

We wake up already behind. Eyes half-open, we scroll through a feed that makes us feel ugly, poor, and late to everything. We swallow coffee like medicine, show up to jobs we don’t care about, perform tasks no one will remember, breathe in air that tastes like exhaust, and somehow call this ‘normal.’

Welcome to Earth, 2025. A spinning rock powered by Wars, Wi-Fi , collective burnout and broken economies. Where we’re all supposed to smile, hustle, and pretend this is fine.

Can Someone Please Turn It Off?

We live in a world where silence feels illegal. Pings, dings, likes, shares, breaking news, breaking hearts—it’s endless. Our brains weren’t designed for this much noise. Every scroll chips away at our attention span, our sanity, our ability to just be.

Try logging off, and suddenly you’re irrelevant. Try unplugging, and people ask if you’re okay. The algorithm replaced the neighborhood, but it doesn’t ask how you are—it just wants to know what keeps you addicted.

Tired is the New Normal

Somewhere along the way, rest became suspicious. If you’re not grinding, you’re falling behind. Capitalism taught us to monetize our hobbies, track our sleep, and brand our personalities. We’re human beings turned into human doings.

Productivity is the new religion, burnout the new baptism. Everyone’s exhausted, but no one wants to admit it out loud because rest doesn’t pay the bills—and worse, it looks lazy on LinkedIn.

Earth is on Fire (But Hey, Nice Selfie)

Meanwhile, outside our filtered lives, the world is literally burning. Floods, fires, rising seas, wars —Mother Nature’s on full meltdown mode. We’re told to go vegan and recycle while billion-dollar companies pollute entire ecosystems with impunity.

It’s not that we don’t care. It’s that caring hurts. We’re overwhelmed, numbed out, frozen between guilt and helplessness. The apocalypse has become just another trending topic.

Together, Alone

Loneliness is now a side effect of everything. We have more ways to connect and less real connection. Friends become followers, communities become comments, and conversation becomes content.

We’re divided by design—fed different realities by different algorithms. Suspicion is profitable. Outrage is viral. Unity? Too boring for the feed.

Progress with a Price Tag

We were promised a better world through tech. What we got was digital dopamine, facial recognition anxiety, and kids who ask Siri more questions than their parents.

Sure, AI writes poetry now—but can anyone still feel something? We’ve got infinite scroll, but no direction. Hyper-efficiency, but zero intimacy. We’re advancing, but are we okay?

Let’s be real—this isn’t working for the majority of us

Life shouldn’t feel like a survival game with push notifications constantly paying bills. The unbearable part isn’t that things are broken—it’s that we keep pretending they’re not.

So what if we stopped pretending?

What if we dropped the performance and said, “This version of life? No thanks.” What if we unplugged, even for a moment, and dared to imagine something softer, slower, more human for everyone?

Not a utopia. Just a world where breathing and existing isn’t a luxury for the few.

A world where we remember we were never meant to live like this.

And maybe—just maybe—that’s where everything begins to change.

via

via

via

Page 1 of 9
1 2 3 9