(It’s Feeding You Too)
1. The Illusion of Control
“We drift through life believing we’re in charge…”
It doesn’t break—
it bends.
A gentle scaffolding mistaken for stone.
We call it freedom,
but it’s rehearsed.
- Psychological: Control is often a trauma response disguised as stability.
- Cultural: Individualism trains us to idolize self-mastery while ignoring shared need.
- Social: Autonomy is rewarded, vulnerability punished.
- Personal: We feel safe in predictability, even when it’s performative.
- Rhythm: Measured. Reflective. A quiet unsettling before the shift.
2. The Hunger for Power
“Real power… isn’t about forcing outcomes.”
Not strength—
but strategy.
We reach for presence
by way of proof.
To be seen, we contort.
- Psychological: Power rooted in pain often seeks domination, not connection.
- Cultural: Society prizes control over compassion, projection over presence.
- Social: We inherit scripts where confidence equals silence, and softness looks weak.
- Personal: We shrink or perform to protect what we’re afraid to expose.
- Rhythm: Building. Constrained. A tightening that threatens to snap.
3. The Original Softness
“Everyone starts as a child.”
Open hands.
Wide eyes.
Before performance,
there was presence.
We were not afraid to ask.
- Psychological: Core wounds often form before we understand the language of self.
- Cultural: We are shaped by reward systems before we choose our values.
- Social: Expectations override essence by early adolescence.
- Personal: The child inside us still questions their worth.
- Rhythm: Gentle. Nostalgic. A sacred ache beneath the skin.
4. The Algorithm of Approval
“We didn’t perform them. We lived them.”
Real once.
Filtered now.
What was shared in secret
is now content.
Curated. Consumed.
- Psychological: External validation becomes a stand-in for inner anchoring.
- Cultural: The digital gaze replaces reflection with performance.
- Social: Intimacy morphs into spectacle, applause into worth.
- Personal: The urge to share everything becomes a fear of being forgotten.
- Rhythm: Quick. Buzzing. Disoriented by the scroll.
5. The Spectacle of Suffering
“Strangers sell their pain as entertainment.”
Tragedy on tap.
Drama streamed.
We feast on what breaks others
to forget our own fractures.
- Psychological: Empathy erodes when pain becomes performance.
- Cultural: Reality TV and virality normalize voyeurism.
- Social: We learn to survive by dramatizing rather than healing.
- Personal: Pain, when watched, starts to feel staged—even when it’s not.
- Rhythm: Tense. Spiked with contradiction. Both drawn in and disturbed.
6. The Illusion of Influence
“Copied and pasted…”
Borrowed light.
Secondhand sparkle.
We wear masks that echo trends,
then forget who we were before.
- Psychological: Imitation becomes identity when belonging is scarce.
- Cultural: Influence is repackaged as originality.
- Social: Popularity is engineered, not earned.
- Personal: We confuse resonance with relevance—and lose our voice.
- Rhythm: Smooth but hollow. A mimic’s melody.
7. The Cost of Fear
“We pay with silence, exhaustion, and performance.”
Fear, well-dressed.
Whispered rules.
We invest not in belief,
but in the cost of disobedience.
- Psychological: Anxiety disguised as discipline is exhausting.
- Cultural: Conformity is monetized and celebrated.
- Social: Fear becomes the fuel of institutions and identities.
- Personal: We betray truth just to stay included.
- Rhythm: Heavy. Slow burn. Tension in stillness.
8. The Mirror Turned Inward
“What am I feeding? And what… is feeding me?”
The question
that doesn’t want performance—
just presence.
It waits,
not for answers,
but for awareness.
- Psychological: Awareness is the first disruption of unconscious cycles.
- Cultural: Reflection is radical in a world of reaction.
- Social: Choosing presence over performance challenges the norm.
- Personal: Curiosity becomes the beginning of reclamation.
- Rhythm: Soft. Sacred. A final note that lingers longer than it plays.
Final Image:
You are standing in front of a mirror—
but instead of your reflection,
you see a screen.
Behind the glass:
an algorithm,
a chorus of curated voices,
a menu of hunger in disguise.
And beside you,
a child—
your former self—
asks, softly:
“Is this what we were meant to become?”
J.N. Rose 