Currently there are two dueling battlefronts
within me regarding that internal jihad we all fight – relationships and
self-medication. Traditionally, I would share my relationship thoughts freely
in printed format, usually hard to obtain yeah, but now I can’t, because it’s
easier to obtain, although getting through the algorithm somehow less than it
did when I just had printed zines laying around to send whoever the fuck gave
me stamp money. You can’t control the algorithm at all – it is an unpredictable
asshole beast mostly looking to squeeze obedience and consumption out of us
collectively. But most all my relationships which would be considered
traditionally that family support network are fucked. My blood kin are gone,
mostly by doing in the past year or so, to keep toxins out of my life, which is
more from the generations above than the generation I’m with, but I don’t have
the excess energy to navigate other people attempting to navigate their own
toxin exposure. And my chosen family as an adult has fallen apart, and becomes
a tighter and tighter clawhold on my heart, where simultaneously my existing
support network is now gone, and there’s harder (impossible) economic squeezes
being made on me. There appears to be no escape too, which triggers the second
battle on that jihad front... medication.
As a person who has sought solace from life’s
inherent pains in the numbing fog of substances, it never leaves you. And I’m
not entirely sure life gets easier so much as you finally convince yourself you
will only fuck it up worse by getting fucked up. I’ve been conned into lifelong
debt commitments which serve me no actual physical purpose to long enough an
extent, that I’m tied to work long past useful working age, when work is
required to meet financial obligations. This is the slow heavy crush of soul
that actually a lot of people feel, perhaps even a majority in America, but we
never share this in our social media, or if we do it is dampered down by the
algorithm in order to keep everything moving along. (Before Twitter clamped
down on their algorithm in order to become more attractive to investors – an obvious
hypocrisy – their less-controlled algorithm resulted in too much shit like the
Tunisian Arab Spring and organization efforts on the ground in Ferguson.) But
that slow crush kills you – somewhat literally, as studies on loneliness show
that factor is a huge contributor to lack of health the second half of life and
early death – and all you want to do is escape it.
Social media in forms of dating apps though also
run through the algorithm, as well as our cultural training, so the form of
connection happening there is seemingly random but also very much not random.
And you’re dialed into a certain stream. My experience in that has been
horrible – the connections very fake, performative more than anything else
(much like most of the digital experience at this point, as we all behave like
little PR departments). Real life connections can happen too, still, but In
Real Life (as if a separate reality, when the age of cyborg has been in place
for a while psychologically) is full of people bracing against In Real Life by
digital horror stories, as well as the false solace of having built “community”
with distant strangers online.
This existence is honestly crushing me. I’m not
built like that, at all, not even close. But life has dealt me a hand where I’m
currently living in a somewhat less than wonderful basement apartment, in a
somewhat solitary existence where most of my interactions with other humans
revolve around going to work, being at work, or coming from work. Work takes
precedence over everything because I’m so maximally stretched out financially
that it feels like I have to work in order to stay alive. An entire
domesticated myth has been woven around of economic responsibility that the
barbs hit me at every turn towards escape, even momentary.
So when stuck in place, and trapped, the only real
escape is substance abuse. And that is where I’m at, wanting escape, knowing
this is a horribly dissatisfying existence, but there’s not an escape.
Therapists both real and self-appointed will say there are steps to take to
make it better, but that’s mostly a psychological perspective rather than
actually improving the physical situation. The physical situation is reality,
as the system we lives in has polluted the skies with obedience fog, and I’m
choking, we’re all choking, everybody’s choking. I’m not even sure those who
control the factories aren’t choking at this point.
If it’s all psychological perspective, it makes me
question the sensibility in not getting fucked up. Why not escape this hell?
For me, that only answer is so as to not affect my offspring in the same
negative ways I was affected by living in such an environment. But that also
re-affirms the worry that you’re no longer living your life for yourself, only
for others. I don’t know, everything is fucked up.
The progress we’ve made is not progress. Even in
progressive circles, there’s a dismissive attitude towards anyone or thing that’s
not immediately upon viewing what you expect as purity test. Our culture is
done, whether you call it western civilization or America or whatever, it’s
fucking done. And it wasn’t ever all that great to begin with (in case anybody
thinks I’m on some bullshit proud boy-esque tangent). I’m done with it. Call
the Tyrone of history, western culture (or Global Northern culture I guess, as
it’s not really western), I’m getting tired of your shit. Every time I ask your
for a little cash, you turn right around and ask me for some ass.
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