We were told freedom would make us artists.
We were told freedom would set us free.
But freedom made us consumers—
scrolling, streaming, drowning in plenty.

Peak content.
Peak noise.
Attention—the last currency.
And we are broke.

Then came the machine.
Infinite. Bespoke. Frictionless.
The tribe dissolved.
The story fractured.
Each of us—
a society of one.

Do not mistake this for culture.
Culture bleeds.
Culture resists.
Culture divides.
This is mimicry.
This is slop.
Outliers cribbed, stripped,
and rebranded before the ink dries.

This is the singularity.
Not awakening.
Collapse.
Not tribe.
Not ritual.
The machine as tribe.
Self-satisfaction—tribe enough.

But listen—
creativity still breathes.
Not to be seen.
Not to trend.
But to testify.
To mark the ruins.
To scratch in the stone:

A human was here.

Do you remember?

I am afraid.
I doubt myself.
The voices say:
turn back.
give up.
stay small.

But I won’t.

I move because love is worth it.
Because freedom is worth it.
Because renewal is worth it.

The country I go to
has collapsed
and risen again.
So have I.

I don’t feel heroic.
I don’t feel strong.
I feel human—
anxious, uncertain, trembling.

And still, I go.

Not for glory.
Not for certainty.

But because to remain
would be the greater loss.

And because even the smallest step,
taken with love,
taken with belief,

is enough
to change
everything.

In the end it's just yourself,
The sad reality that everyone gets fed up is too much,
And tears you once shed mean no more to anyone but you.
So now all you can do is smile,
While you're breaking apart on the inside,
Cause if you don't smile,
The people who were once apart of your life will be gone.

According to
the science of the “unknown”,
random samples of emptiness
can only scratch the surface of nothingness..
Depleting the distortions of invisibility
while examining the possibility of
the non-existent state..
Leaving only what appears to be
worthless ashes of eternal entropy!
...
And in another related stories...