Police officers are nothing more than a governments armed thugs and enforcers of capitalist interests.
๐4
Technology is making us depend less on each other, but what will be left of human connection if the only reason we ever approached each other was to ask for something we desperately needed?
๐ฟ2
I think I've spent most of my life in the back seat.Not necessarily unhappy, not necessarily uncomfortable. Just... there. Watching someone else drive while I got used to the view.
And the weird thing is, I can't even point at my life and say I have nothing. I have things. I have people. I have opportunities. I have so many things that, if I ever complained about feeling empty, I'd probably sound like the most ungrateful person alive.
That's what makes it so hard to explain. Because sometimes I look at my life and think, "What exactly am I missing? You literally have everything you're supposed to have."
But then someone asks me something simple.
"What are you passionate about?"
And I don't know.
"What do you want to do with your life?"
I don't know.
"What do you think love is?"
...I don't know.
And it's embarrassing because these are supposed to be the things you just 'know'. Things you're supposed to have some deep answer for. But when someone asks me, my mind just goes completely blank. It's not that I don't have feelings. I do. I think too much, actually. I just don't always know which thoughts are mine.
Sometimes I wonder if I've spent so long doing what made sense, what was expected, what seemed right, that I forgot to stop and ask myself what I actually wanted.
So now I have this strange feeling of having a life without completely feeling like it's mine.
And I know how ridiculous that sounds.
I know there are people who would look at everything I have and wonder how I could possibly feel this way.
Maybe they're right.
Maybe I am being ungrateful.
Or maybe you can appreciate the life you've been given and still wonder, quietly, whether you ever learned how to choose one for yourself.
Absolutely โ more natural, less like a perfectly constructed monologue, and more like someone slowly realizing what they actually mean while talking.
I think I've spent most of my life in the back seat.
Not necessarily unhappy, not necessarily uncomfortable. Just... there. Watching someone else drive while I got used to the view.
And the weird thing is, I can't even point at my life and say I have nothing. I have things. I have people. I have opportunities. I have so many things that, if I ever complained about feeling empty, I'd probably sound like the most ungrateful person alive.
That's what makes it so hard to explain.
Because sometimes I look at my life and think, *What exactly am I missing? You literally have everything you're supposed to have.*
But then someone asks me something simple.
"What are you passionate about?"
And I don't know.
"What do you want to do with your life?"
I don't know.
"What do you think love is?"
...I don't know.
And it's embarrassing because these are supposed to be the things you just *know*. Things you're supposed to have some deep answer for. But when someone asks me, my mind just goes completely blank.
It's not that I don't have feelings. I do. I think too much, actually.
I just don't always know which thoughts are mine.
Sometimes I wonder if I've spent so long doing what made sense, what was expected, what seemed right, that I forgot to stop and ask myself what I actually wanted.
So now I have this strange feeling of having a life without completely feeling like it's mine.
And I know how ridiculous that sounds.
I know there are people who would look at everything I have and wonder how I could possibly feel this way.
Maybe they're right.
Maybe I am being ungrateful.
Or maybe you can appreciate the life you've been given and still wonder, quietly, whether you ever learned how to choose one for yourself.
And the weird thing is, I can't even point at my life and say I have nothing. I have things. I have people. I have opportunities. I have so many things that, if I ever complained about feeling empty, I'd probably sound like the most ungrateful person alive.
That's what makes it so hard to explain. Because sometimes I look at my life and think, "What exactly am I missing? You literally have everything you're supposed to have."
But then someone asks me something simple.
"What are you passionate about?"
And I don't know.
"What do you want to do with your life?"
I don't know.
"What do you think love is?"
...I don't know.
And it's embarrassing because these are supposed to be the things you just 'know'. Things you're supposed to have some deep answer for. But when someone asks me, my mind just goes completely blank. It's not that I don't have feelings. I do. I think too much, actually. I just don't always know which thoughts are mine.
Sometimes I wonder if I've spent so long doing what made sense, what was expected, what seemed right, that I forgot to stop and ask myself what I actually wanted.
So now I have this strange feeling of having a life without completely feeling like it's mine.
And I know how ridiculous that sounds.
I know there are people who would look at everything I have and wonder how I could possibly feel this way.
Maybe they're right.
Maybe I am being ungrateful.
Or maybe you can appreciate the life you've been given and still wonder, quietly, whether you ever learned how to choose one for yourself.
Absolutely โ more natural, less like a perfectly constructed monologue, and more like someone slowly realizing what they actually mean while talking.
I think I've spent most of my life in the back seat.
Not necessarily unhappy, not necessarily uncomfortable. Just... there. Watching someone else drive while I got used to the view.
And the weird thing is, I can't even point at my life and say I have nothing. I have things. I have people. I have opportunities. I have so many things that, if I ever complained about feeling empty, I'd probably sound like the most ungrateful person alive.
That's what makes it so hard to explain.
Because sometimes I look at my life and think, *What exactly am I missing? You literally have everything you're supposed to have.*
But then someone asks me something simple.
"What are you passionate about?"
And I don't know.
"What do you want to do with your life?"
I don't know.
"What do you think love is?"
...I don't know.
And it's embarrassing because these are supposed to be the things you just *know*. Things you're supposed to have some deep answer for. But when someone asks me, my mind just goes completely blank.
It's not that I don't have feelings. I do. I think too much, actually.
I just don't always know which thoughts are mine.
Sometimes I wonder if I've spent so long doing what made sense, what was expected, what seemed right, that I forgot to stop and ask myself what I actually wanted.
So now I have this strange feeling of having a life without completely feeling like it's mine.
And I know how ridiculous that sounds.
I know there are people who would look at everything I have and wonder how I could possibly feel this way.
Maybe they're right.
Maybe I am being ungrateful.
Or maybe you can appreciate the life you've been given and still wonder, quietly, whether you ever learned how to choose one for yourself.
๐3
And yet the greatest miracle of this age is not artificial intelligence, nor machines that fit inside a pocket.
It is the astonishing confidence of people who know absolutely nothing and have somehow monetized the condition
It is the astonishing confidence of people who know absolutely nothing and have somehow monetized the condition
๐6
Forwarded from Dagmawi Babi ๐ช๐น
Don't use AI to make art.
Use childhood trauma like a real artist.
Use childhood trauma like a real artist.
๐6
I think I just spent too much time staring at the cracks and eventually started mistaking them for windows.
๐8
I don't care what Google says; choice and decision are a whole different matter!
๐ฟ3๐2
We have taken the entirely human fact that lives unfold differently and turned it into a race, then punished ourselves for not arriving at the same places at the same time. and they say we woke tf
๐ฟ3๐2
There is something almost pathetic about becoming your own harshest judge and then calling it discipline. As if kindness would make me lazy, as if forgiveness would make me weak, as if I must keep myself slightly miserable just to remain useful.
๐2
I appear like I am chronically online, but perhaps that is only because I was built from algorithms
๐3
A little bit of everything the internet kept throwing at meโan opinion here, a strange joke there, some obscure piece of history I had no business knowing, three different philosophies at two in the morning, a song I heard once and somehow made part of my personality, and an unreasonable amount of information that will probably never become useful.
๐3
Surafel | แฑแซแแ.
I've been carrying an idea for years. This weekend I finally wrote it down, and it's the one New Year's resolution I'm actually going to keep. It's called The Happy Lucky Project, named after my brother and two sisters. The short version: a collective ofโฆ
I really hope this starts running because I might actually be one of the kids in it ๐ฅน. Iโm really excited to see where this goes. I hope you keep going with it!
๐ญ2
โI donโt have friends.โ
Wellโฆ thatโs because Iโve built an exceptionally hostile environment for friendship. I donโt text first, I disappear for days, my social battery is held together by prayer, I hate crowds, and apparently โletโs hang out sometimeโ is a terrifying contractual obligation.
Top-tier introvert. Low energy, high overthinking, mildly judgmental, and somehow always surprised that nobody has managed to breach the perimeter.
But hey, Iโm working on it. Slowly. Very, very slowly.
Wellโฆ thatโs because Iโve built an exceptionally hostile environment for friendship. I donโt text first, I disappear for days, my social battery is held together by prayer, I hate crowds, and apparently โletโs hang out sometimeโ is a terrifying contractual obligation.
Top-tier introvert. Low energy, high overthinking, mildly judgmental, and somehow always surprised that nobody has managed to breach the perimeter.
But hey, Iโm working on it. Slowly. Very, very slowly.
๐5
I hate INTERVIEW AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
๐ณ3๐ญ2๐ฟ2
I need someone else to hype me up to go crazy because Iโm way too maternal with myself ๐ญ. Iโm always trying to keep myself safe, reasonable, and composed when sometimes I just need someone to grab me by the shoulders and be like GO. BE UNHINGED. DO THE THING. STOP ACTING LIKE YOUโRE YOUR OWN RESPONSIBLE AUNTIE. like i dont even have life experience ๐ญ fuck that interview for making me question my social life!!!
๐ญ7
Polkadot
I hate INTERVIEW AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
And then Iโm sitting there likeโฆ okay, but what if the version of me on paper is not the version of me that shows up when someone looks directly at me?? What if I know myself perfectly fine until somebody asks me to prove it out loud?? Why does suddenly being perceived turn everything I know about myself into a suspicious little pile of MAYBE?? Iโm here because I canโt be out there, but apparently being here means I now have to convince someone that I belong out there. OH MY GOD. IโM THE PAPER. IโM THE PERSON THE PAPER IS ABOUT. IโM ALSO THE IDIOT WHO HAS TO GO IN THERE AND EXPLAIN WHY THE PAPER IS ME. HELLO???? ๐ญ tbh I don't even like this place
๐6