After hundreds of millennia, how can every single aspect of life be this fucked up? You would think our species could have figured one thing out that isn’t negative in some way, but apparently not. Perhaps there is something, but I can’t think of it. Hell we can’t even cover the basics.
I wonder if we’ll smile in our coffins while loved ones mourn the day the absence of our face
We have a system to measure air quality but it is solely based on whether the air will make you sick or not. That seems fucked up. Water has all sorts of issues and pales in comparison to the food supply. Expand from there and absolutely everything is tainted with some kind of fuckery.
living, laughing, eyes awake, is this too much for them to take?
Hell, even sunshine is complicated. Light skinned folks get cancer from it. Darker folks don’t get enough and end up with a vitamin D deficiency. Some people don’t want to get too dark because it is a sign of low status or some shit. Meanwhile others are slathering themselves in chemicals and sitting in tanning beds to look like on old leather saddle.
Fucked up.
too young for one's
Perhaps I am the one that’s off. Of course aren’t we all? I gather anyone flipping through The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders can attach some hard to pronounce label on anyone if they wanted to. They don’t even have to try very hard. They just have to add the word “spectrum” and BAM!
Here are some meds.
conclusion the lifestyle won such values you taught your son
Seems every other advertisement nowadays is trying to sell some form of mental health maintenance. Whether that be pills or a help line, I can’t go a day without being reminded that there is an epidemic of distress. I don’t think it is just a flaw of human genetics either. Something about the world we have built around us is seriously fucking with our minds.
that’s how that’s how that’s how look at me now
Somehow I am supposed to accept that civilization and modernization is the safest and most responsible choice humans can make. We may have eliminated the complication of figuring out how to find food and water. We may have beaten back the monsters hiding in the deep dark woods. We may have developed better shelters and fancier clothing, but in return we added thousands of other stressors.
I’m broken inherit my life I’m broken
I honestly don’t know how I keep it together. I definitely have my vices, but for the most part I can cope. I don’t ever feel so desperate as to need those drugs or that help line. Perhaps I have some kind of syndrome, or disorder, or divergence from what is considered “normal”, but I honestly don’t care to find out. I am not bothered by who I am.
I can’t speak for other people experiencing me.
one day, we all will die a clichéd fact of life force fed to make us heed inbred to sponge our bleed
At the same time I have started to realize that my childhood wasn’t as emotionally pastoral as I thought it was. I spent most of my life believing there wasn’t all that much negative about how I was raised. Punishments were light, and I was mainly left alone to do whatever I wanted with very little oversight.
every warning, a leaking rubber a poison apple for mingled blood
I realize now that my upbringing bordered on neglect. Granted, I had food. I had a home. I had clothes. I had toys. If I got sick I was taken care of. My parents were merely uninvolved. So long as I wasn’t making trouble for them they didn’t care what I was doing. I rarely got any guidance unless it was being dictated to me, and the affection was nominal at best.
too young for one's
I don’t mean to put my folks in a bad light. My entire generation was free range, and I am actually grateful for most of how that approach shaped me. I also never even considered it a negative until recently and only because I have raised my own kids and we have had conversations about their upbringing and what they liked and disliked about it. Got me to thinking about things I ignored that were kind of fucked up.
delusion, the lifestyle cost venereal mother embrace the loss
I have a lot of forgiveness for my parents. I can empathize with the people they were, in the time they were living, under the circumstances they had. They did the best they could, and for the most part it was fine. It could’ve been better but it could’ve been a fuckton worse. I merely find myself having to accept that some of it was pretty gnarly in retrospect.
that’s how that’s how that’s how look at you now
I suppose I am looking at it from the lens of wasted potential. I have talent. I have smarts. I have a good work ethic. My folks expected a lot from me. I expected a lot from myself. Somehow the years got away from me and through it all I could never find a way to leverage my assets into more than an average life and yeah. Part of me wants to blame something outside of myself.
you're broken inherit your life you're broken
In reality though, I only have myself to blame, but I can’t point to a diagnosis. I don’t find comradery in a group of misfits with similar emotional or mental hiccups. I have tried to seek guidance on how I can change my framing to see better results, but those conversations seem to always want me to abandon the core of who I am.
UNH!
Somehow I am supposed to figure out a way to love conformity. I am supposed to shirk my innate ability to argue the cynical side. I am expected to put myself in a state of denial where life is only about the upside, the silver linings, the schmaltzy motivational mollifications that simply don’t fit what I am gathering from the reality around me.
It’s crazy making.
that’s how that’s how that’s how look at us now
It’s like the world is trying to tell me I am supposed to be smelling roses when my entire experience is constantly catching a whiff of dogshit on my shoe. I am expected to accept the world as this broken, corrupt, misleading swamp and show gratitude because I have all my fingers and toes.
I get it. Some people don’t have toes. If it means not feeling like the weight of 37 elephants isn’t pressing down on me all the time, take the fucking toes. Take a pinky too for that matter.
I’m broken inherit my life I’m broken
So yeah. I don’t know if the world is fucked up or if the world is fine and I am the one that’s fucked up. It’s probably both. My only solace is knowing I am not the only one that feels this way. I have yet to meet someone who navigates their life with no complaint. Everyone is struggling with something, and if not yet they probably will eventually. No one gets out of this thing unscathed.
that’s how that’s how that’s how look at us now
Mostly I am just tired. I am fed up listening to promises that consistently end up hollow. Seems every aspect of life has been monetized, advertised, subsidized, bastardized, compromised, and destabilized. Meanwhile I’m crazy for not accepting that whatever this circus is somehow it is the best path forward.
That or I am the asshole for pointing it out.
I just need to suck it up and leave it to the professionals apparently. The have done real well so far.
I’m broken broken
I’m broken broken
I’m broken broken
I’m brokeLyrics - “I’m Broken” by Pantera
Your perspective is your perspective. Is the world fucked up? Doubt there's a way to quantify it or decide whether it is or not. For some it will be and for others it's divine. So, if it's completely our own perspective that can answer the simple question, then, yes, I believe the world if fucked. Is it the same as fucked up? That, too, is perspective aligned. Thanks for sharing.
The part about realizing your childhood wasn't as idyllic as you remembered resonated. Sometimes understanding the past isn't about blaming people, it’s about finally having language for experiences we couldn't explain before.