Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Who doesn’t love TikTok?

TikTok is the cutting edge of social media. The only true challenger to the giants of Meta (formerly Facebook). Think about it, almost all major social media companies are either based in the USA or strongly affiliated with the Western Hemisphere. Facebook, Instagram, Whatsapp, Snapchat, hell even BeReal work together in some strange collaboration of keeping people addicted to their phones. Which in of itself is a different conversation. But TikTok stays challenging norms. They are Chinese owned and operated, containing the most fascinating algorithm with an enchanting feature–The For You Page.

Maybe your For You Page isn’t as detail oriented as mine, but I swear TikTok has a chip that has latched onto my brain that feeds the algorithm my thoughts. I remember once briefly, and I cannot stress the short lived nature of this thought, thinking that religious head coverings are a cool thing. One short video later, I’m on Muslim Tok and Orthodox Tok. Looking at it optimistically, it is fascinating that we have developed technology where we can connect with the very niche aspects of ourselves. I mean just look at the website this essay is on. Ao3, the land of any fanfiction you could possibly ever want. Smut, angst, fluff? All about that one sexy character from that ancient 80s movie you don’t remember the name of? Yes, it’s here. It’s beautiful we can create communities here about anything we could want.

And yet, it is horrifying that our reality is becoming based on the Internet. Taking notes from Sisphyus 55’s video on being Chronically Online, our reality is becoming based on a beast whose main drive is to keep us locked on our phones rather than being in the present. Think about the physical action of scrolling. Maybe you’re on your bed or couch laying down, hunched over with both hands on the phone, scrolling. The only parts of you moving are your breath, fingers, and eyes. Or maybe you’re in public, sitting down and taking a moment to scroll mindlessly on your phone. And although our generation is constantly being ridiculed for our political beliefs, short attention span, and various other mundane things that every maturing generation was bugged over, the real concerning matters that we do aren’t being addressed. How many of us are phone addicted? How many of us cannot make genuine friendships and relationships. And if we do, how many times have we let pixels and people on the Internet affect said relationships? Why does the distance between notifications feel greater than that of the physical distance?

Wake up. Embrace boredom. Embrace the trials of life, take it slow and good. Otherwise…

How much of our lives have we wasted to minion sexuality discourse? How much will we continue to waste?

Do you really want that?

"But we cannot get rid our phones! Online discourse is important! It's all important."

I hear you, I feel you, I thought the same. I justified my chronic online presence by staying I'm being intellectual. I'm watching videos on discourse and praxis. Consuming "good" content. Being a better person. But I challenge you to think that maybe, just maybe, community outside the Internet can be just as if not more fulfilling. Punk discourse online is one thing, talking about lace code and who and who isn't allowed at punk shows etc. But being there, in the scene, in the community, is something else entirely. Meeting people who will ride or die for you for real life is different than engaging with people who know you only by your username and profile picture. Learning intimately the ins and outs of your own community can make you feel more connected to not only the culture but your own creativity. Instead of being a passerby, a consumer of content, be a creative. Create your own play. Your own outlet of rage, passion, etc. Somewhere only you can access and choose a select few or even many to access as well. There's something about seeing works of art and creativity in person that differs from seeing it online. You can see art for what is it, not through the filters.

Be bored. Stay in the tranquil. In the aspects of life that just are. I think that is peace.

Because there is only so much we can do to alleviate this issue. Considering that the Internet has become as important as electricity. We need to tame this beast. We need to make the Internet work for us, not the other way around.

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I drink sadness like wine.

Melancholy aside, I think there is a certain art to the emotion of sadness. To feel the weight of happiness is to swallow sadness. Oftentimes, these two emotions are foils of each other. Each similar but distinctly different in its own way. That’s why positivity for the sake of positivity is dangerous. Being in a state of sublime happiness longer than a day should be a warning of something deeper.

Mania.

There’s a difference between happiness and peace I think. Peace is a comfort. A luxury. It’s the safety of knowing you are loved. In some capacity at least. Happiness is the bliss of love. The bundles of joy we search desperately for the rest of our time here.

But like all good things, sadness and happiness can be so addicting.

I adore pain. Masochistic, you may say, but what’s the difference between alcoholism and masochism? Not much. They both aim at numbness. Aim at stopping the emotions, even if ust for a split second. Alcohol, sex, drugs, success. All are mistresses distracting from the marriage that is life. That’s all it is-right? A morbid affair.

But all affairs can be addicting.

Happiness in excess is mania. Sadness in excess is depression. I’m no advocate for stoicism by any means, even though I think it could solve lots of problems. At the core of it, we humans adore the complicated mess of life and its various avenues. Some of us hate change, others crave it. Others in between. Stoicism doesn’t work because it requires a command of the human heart that cannot serve a master.

I can barely hold my heart and you’re expecting me to tame it?

We should be allowed to feel. Feel deeply. And, alternatively, feel nothing at all. There should be no shame in the human emotion, because it’s a defining characteristic of our species. It’s a calling card of us, to feel if anything. It’s why we get into so much trouble. A lack of emotion or an overabundance can spell doom in so many different ways. But stotics would have you believe for this reason is why we should be stotics. To command the emotions, keep them at bay, then endure the brunt of the pain of living with a neutral expression. On paper it sounds lovely.

But it wouldn’t work.

You fall into that trap of not feeling enough, as stotics do. They want us to be ruled by logic, virtue, rhetoric that all sorts of bad actors on Twitter will shamelessly misuse. Facts don’t care about your feelings bullshit. But, what if feelings are apart of the facts?
I loved you. That’s gotta count for something. And even though logic doesn’t agree with it, I do. You hurt me. But, similarly, I believe it wasn’t on purpose. There’s no justifiable logical basis for this belief, but I choose to believe it. If not for you, then for me. And surely, we should live for ourselves.

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Like Nietzche has said a long time ago, God is Dead.

Like Nietzche, I grew up in love with Christianity and religion. I went to school for theology. I became heartbroken just like he did to similar conclusions. God is dead and we have killed him. The most difficult part of studying Philosophy and Theology is keeping your values close. You get lost in the muses of Hegel and Marx. The line between influence and mindless agreeance is very thin. You run the risk in between the papers, in between the discussion posts and forums of losing sight of what you think you believe in. So take a moment to think about what you believe in. Should you believe in anything at all?

Because, I found great disturbance in the idea of not having faith of some kind. Greater still was the shame of being Christian. No one is a stranger to what the Capital C Church’s agenda is. Capital C Church of course refers to the Church as a whole across the globe. They in defense of their God want to make the world a better place. Whether it be saving the souls of the “unborn angels” and their whore mothers or converting “predators” into sons and daughters again. The Church is determined to fix this world in the way they see fit. What gets me is the callousness of it all. The lack of empathy, compassion and understanding. The lack of autonomy as well. I’ll go out on a limb and say most American Christians believe in the concept of “free-will”. Having free-will is convenient and deepens the relationship we have with God. Furthermore there is a recurring theme in the Bible that we do not deserve forgiveness from God, but receive it anyways. David, Joshua, Paul, the disciples, they all have stumbled greatly and found solace in knowing that God still loved them and forgave them. So, under these two foundational concepts, we can come to the conclusion that no matter what decision an individual makes in their lifetime, they will be forgiven. This applies to the pastors who cheat on their wives (Hillsong Church 2020), to the money embezzling they do (Church of Latter-Day Saints 2023), and of course when they stumble short of chastity/decency vows (Catholic Church 1980-?). The sins of the Church will always be forgiven. If not by God, then by the congregation. But where is the mercy for the everyday folk? For the mom who can’t afford another mouth to feed? To the child who was cast aside through no fault of her own? Where is their grace, their mercy? God has already given it to them, but what of the Church?

The biggest argument against faith that I’ve heard from my peers isn’t the ridiculousness of believing in God. It’s not tithing, prayer, communion or baptism. It’s not the Bible either. It’s the Church. The Church is killing off any new membership they could gain and driving people elsewhere. Ironically, into the hands of the very people they claim they are fearful of: Satanists.

Since Dobbs, I can’t even imagine how many more people have turned to the Satanic Temple. A decision that was done to save American children and mothers from Satan is turning people right to him. I don’t say this in like an Evangelical auntie clutching their pearls kind of way. More so in an amazement kind of way. Think of it like this, if the Church wanted to “save more souls”, why did they fund a change in the law that made it more appealing for people to become Satanists than Christians? The Satanic Temple protects reproductive rights more than a majority of Christian churches. If we’re going to be speaking Christian to Christian, you’re turning people into the hands of the very thing you’re praying they run from. Because of you and your lack of love. For anyone who doesn’t fit into your pious pyre.

Love is the greatest commandment. This isn’t just a bullshit non-demonomial interpretation. Straight from Jesus Christ of Nazerath’s mouth is “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ 31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.’ “ (Mark 12:30-31 NIV). Emphasis on the “there is no commandment greater than these”. We are meant to love people. I think some Christians get confused on the “Love your neighbor” part too. Loving your neighbor doesn’t restrict you to the people who live directly next door to you. Like Exodus says “You shall neither mistreat a stranger nor oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 22:21 KJV).

I don’t use these Biblical references lightly. I use them because all too often, the Church loves to use the Bible verses out of context for their own benefit. They like to manipulate the word of God to evoke divinity in their favor. Did you know that slave owners gave edited versions of the Bible to slaves (Smithsonian)? How heartbreaking it is to think of all the people who learned the Bible forcibly, through shame, through pain instead of love.

And what hope is there for the Church now? They have abused their position as God’s people. They have casted out people. Marginalized and hated people so hard. Rung the Bible dry every Sunday looking for a way to further their agenda. And for what? To bring down Heaven? Make an Eden in Texas filled with beer that hates transgender people and Hooters waitresses? We’re not meant to stay here. The world is corrupt and evil. That’s something I think everyone on the planet can agree with. Sunday is coming, heaven isn't here. We’re meant to leave and start anew together, if we’re going to go off God’s word.

And yet, I keep my faith. I go to Sunday morning gritting my teeth, holding my tongue because if I don’t I might spit. I have forgiveness in my heart for the Church and their crimes against the world, because I know it’s the right thing to do. But, my anger persists. I will rage quietly as people sing songs about loving Jesus and hearing pastors talk about needing the Holy Spirit. Because my fight is not with flesh and blood, but with whatever demon is currently taking control of Capital C Church.

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I brought you Costco flowers for the death of our friendship.

A part of me wanted to get you Walmart ones or even Sam’s, but you deserve better than that. I deserve better than that. That’s the name of the game, isn’t it. Reap what you sow. Grow the tree, eat the harvest. Then why did our crops bring forth such bitter fruit?

I love you, even if you don’t believe me. It’ll be pointless to talk about the things I would have done for you, because that list is limitless. No mountain was insurmountable for you. So let me tell you the things I did do. I stood by you. Against better judgment, against all logic, against all mental prowess. I kept your secrets. Nurtured your heart. Ran barefoot through the shattered glass of mental illness with you. I braided your hair with daisies. I fed you the sweetest of ambrosia. I grew tomatoes for you. Held your broken heart like a dying budgie.

But you left me.

Just as abruptly as you entered my life, you left. You iced me out with the coldest summer. You did to me what your stupid ex-boyfriend did to you. You became the very person you regretted the most. Tell me, would anyone have done what I did for you? Would anyone love you so wholly, so holy. My heart was a dove and you became an unmerciful poacher. You became a person that I knew you could have been. Desperate to avoid confrontation, you would rather end a friendship of nine years than have the guts to talk to me. You would rather disembowel her than hurt yourself.

And I hate that it came to this.

I hate you didn’t call, you didn’t text, you didn’t try. I hate if things were left up to you, things would be uncomfortable for the rest of our miserable lives. You would rather have me on Instagram to stalk than to ever have the balls to talk to me. Your silence is insufferable and shows the character of who you are. A calling card of the final evolution of [REDACTED] I will ever come to know.

And you know the tragedy of it all?

I never thought you could do this to me. Never thought you were capable of hurting me like this. Who am I to any other of your friends? Did I really mean so little? Did my bed not warm you enough? Did I ask for too much? Tease you a bit too hard? Cared a little too deeply?

Because you didn’t hurt the person I am today.

I am cutthroat. First one ready to cut at the chopping block. I am capable of surviving the earthquake of you. Who is not is the girl you left behind. The little girl who played alone, who ate alone. Who never had anyone wish her happy birthday on those stupid Instagram posts. Who at such a young and pivotal age knew a loneliness rivaled by only by maybe, just maybe:

You.

I don’t feel bad for you. I obviously feel a lot of anger and pain, but no pity. Because there’s only so many times a person can stumble before you have to let them figure it out. Like a baby learning to walk, I can only hope you will someday stop crawling. I think the beauty of loving a person the way I loved you is to learn them. I studied you like a book. But memorized you like you were a Bar Exam. You’re vegetarian but will cheat for sushi. You hate philosophy but would listen to me drunkenly talk about it. You love your siblings with a ferociousness to be rivaled by any soulless Congressman. You wear a 9W. You have a dent in the back of your head.

I

I could never walk down Avenue South again. I could never feel the breeze of the sea without shedding a tear for what would’ve been. The potentiality isn’t what hurts the most. It’s the lack of fruition of the promises we made to each other. I thought it would take heaven and hell to take me from you, but it just took

A flogging of the innermost parts of you and I.

But I’d go through it again. I would go through the sleepless nights, the joyous cries, the drunk babblings all again. In a nanosecond. The distance between us is the same as between atoms, sure, but it is a small infinity. This is more than a flesh wound, but I will dress it the same. This hurt will scar over. Even though it is a scar, I’m grateful you left your mark on me. I have and will continue to love you. Even if it doesn’t make any more sense. Because it is the Godly thing to do. Surely, you couldn’t have done this to just anyone. This hurt is special. Not generic.

Nevertheless,

Never ever speak to me again.

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Reality is a chore and interpreting it is a bore.

What has always bothered me (and many philosophers before and after me) is the question of reality? What is it? Can we trust our own perception of reality? Can we trust reality? Other’s interpretations of reality?

Cogito era sum. I think therefore I am.

A shining example of how a simple phrase could turn into something more. I’ve seen this phrase slapped on songs, shirts, instagram bios. It was written by Descartes in his work “Discourse of Method”, but that is neither here nor there. The general premise of the book is whether or not we could trust our own individual perceptions of reality, all things considered. Suppose there’s a wicked alien or demon out there who’s main joy in life is deceiving you of the truth. He alters your senses to make you believe what you’re experiencing is truth, but in actuality is not. And this entity happens to be extremely powerful, so they possess the ability of tricking you very deeply. But Descartes argues that because you, yes you, have the ability to reason, to come to this very idea that the alien exists at all, you can trust your perception because no one can take away that ability of reason from you. No one can alter your mind’s ability of reason because it’s a very intrinsic aspect of being a person, therefore you can trust your ability to reason. Furthermore, if that demon were truly so powerful, he wouldn’t let you come to this natural progression of thought as to avoid you discovering the truth.

Weird right?

After thinking about this philosophical train of thought I’ve come to wonder the following.

What about drugs? Mental illness? Love?

All of these alter a person’s ability to reason. Ever heard the idea of “love blinds you”? I’ve always taken that saying to be very literal, like love will blind you to the supposed beauty or lack there of a person you love. But that in of itself is an alteration of your reasoning. Suppose you meet a lovely person, but they are horrifically ugly according to the beauty standards of the time. There’s nothing wrong with their lack of beauty per say, and in fact you’ve come to really love this person for all of the other reasons you could love a person. Some in society would tell you that loving that person is a reasonable course of action because beauty isn’t all that is important. Others would tell you that loving them is a foolish action because love must be all encompassing, physical beauty included. If we’re going for a naturalist argument, then it is to be said that mates look for physical attributes most appealing for passing down good qualities to their offsprings.

Now, all things considered, which course is that of the demon’s?

These are all differing sentiments, but regardless of what path you take, love has altered your reasoning in some way or another.
I may be ignorant of Descartes’ response to this question if it exists, but I think to trust the robust soundness of our minds is a bit foolish. Especially considering that under the best of conditions the human mind is still so fragile. Now considering the worst, even someone as wicked as the demon could never hold a candle to the pain we inflict on ourselves.

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You took my heart and ran with it.
The closer I get to your age, the closer I get to never understanding you.

The sympathy I held for you was limited but vast and it fades. Fades and fades into oblivion.

What is it about me that doesn’t satisfy you?
Nevermind all I did, think of the beauty I would have brought you. I could have been the greatest weekend getaway. Visited me for a day or two. I would have settled for dust. Particles even.

I could’ve liked you, (I do).

But I never would have loved you.

I never would have loved your hands or the way your smile crinkles like paper. Never would have loved your stupid job at the high school and black hair. Never would have loved your family dinners. The mundane of Bakersfield. Never would have melted for you. I shouldn’t have ever loved you.

And likewise, you would have never loved me.

Never would have loved my beauty marks. Never would have loved the intricacies of the innermost parts of me. You wouldn’t have ever known the nape of my neck. How it slopes so delicately into my shoulders. Right?

The gap between us is years in the making.
Always has been.
Breathing you out was the hardest bit.
Two years of therapy and I’m still not over it all.
Your goatee was always stupid.
I cannot even drive to your part of town without a sinking hole lurking in my backseat.
Your birthday is in September, I still remember.
You wore the cheapest of colognes, but who wouldn’t with your salary?
Did you hurt her too?
How could a man bury two girls with no remorse?
Did you do the unthinkable?
I would’ve endured it and worse had you just spared girls like her.
I would have taken that curse.

And,

You made me weak. Made me buy stupid perfume and laugh a little too hard. Eat a little lot less. Smile a lot little more. You forced my hand, now I look like a criminal. Red hands from my own blood. Like a rat skull I would have kept you. A beloved knick knack on my shelf you could’ve been. Instead, like a pigeon wing you tossed me aside on the road. No remorse. No brief eulogy. Maybe, just maybe never have even noticed my brokenness.

But you knew. Surely you did.

You had such a high ground over me, I was just a silly padawan. But that back and forth I would have lived for, Jedi Master. Have you only seen it. If you could only see. I memorized jazz for you. Practiced until I was blue. You liked Arctic Monkeys for me. At least you pretended to be. I was just sixteen, performing autospies on what little sanity I had left. Starving for attention and something aside from a protein bar. Too busy to do anything aside from etherizing the patient full of shit you delegated to me. I was a girl and you robbed that from me. Stolen from my hands, almost like taking candy from a baby. If it doesn’t eat away at you, it should.

I heard you lost your job.

Could you blame me? If nothing happened then why do you feel so guilty? Why do I feel so ashamed? I would have never loved you because it wasn’t love. It was the ugliest, most vile thing and you tricked me. You trapped me, you lied, you played a game I didn’t understand the rules to.

A part of me did love you.

If she didn’t, then I shouldn’t be so hurt. Maybe it was for the thrill of it all (the sobriety makes you antsy). There’s nothing I wanted more than the lows of disappointment. I know my love was unrequited. However, I would have loved you unconventionally. In a way that would bring shame. Degrading and embarrassing. Wouldn’t that be just exactly what you wanted? I would do it all over again.

I recoil at the thought of ever being near you again. Again I don’t know if it's in disgust or wanting. You hurt me. I don’t know if I hurt you. I forgot your face but I will never forget your name. It is etched on my soul. With a diamond tip window breaker.

Do you wake up and think of the age of the Sun?

When we see her supernova, is when I will finally be enough for you.

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Astrology depending on who you ask is either a lot of bullshit or something that is definitely true. To the girlies on Tiktok astrology can help you determine a whole life– well led. Where to go to find wealth, love, or an overall happy life. When to invest in stock. When to expect hard times. Astrology can tell you all this and more. On the other hand, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense how the stars can determine all these very important things according to astrology haters.

But there’s a lot of belief systems that don’t make sense just like astrology.

I read this tweet that said that the stock market is just like astrology but for men. If you think about it: the stock market at its core is an elusive vixen who although many claim there’s a science to her follies, there truly isn't. Sure, you can play the market game expertly, but oftentimes like many fickle maidens, the stock market likes to keep us on our toes. She likes to lie. She likes to fall and rise over and over again. It’s why the Wolf of Wall Street is so compelling. To watch this man go through the process of trying to tame an untamable beast. To see a bit of ourselves in him in a voyeuristic admiration. The appeal of the stock market is that everyone, even the little guy, is playing with the same stove. You can make millions of dollars with a bit of luck and lots of “intelligence”. Or you could even say: faith.

But I like the concept of faith.

To have faith is to have hope in something. And sometimes we need a little bit of hope to get through the day. Sometimes it's a comforting idea that there’s an external force looking out for you. Or sometimes it’s equally as comforting to put all of your mistakes and flaws onto some external force you cannot change. We were born sinners and will die as such, so we cannot help that we sin everyday. We were born Cancers and will die as such, so I should embrace that I’m a crabby kind of person. I am flawed but it is outside of my control. I was born human, so I should drink from a cup that cannot be passed.

Faith when used correctly can be a helping drug. When used incorrectly can deed into grandiose ideas of delusion. That somehow we actually have control in life. That’s the particular danger of astrology for me personally. Sometimes I get those videos on my Tiktok feed that tell me to stop and interact because I’ll be cursed if I don’t or I’ll lose out on blessings. And I know logically that it’s a tactic to keep people viewing and to keep people engaged with their content for their own monetary gain. But I claim and like and more videos appear. The cycle is never ending but it is my own doing. But when you appeal to people’s faiths is when you get a stronger response. That’s how you get elderly ladies spending hundreds of dollars on televangelism. It’s how you get grieving families in the hands of a medium. There is a certain unethical line that people who work in these spiritual industries tiptoe around. Yes, you can believe in chakras and palo santo. Holy water and communion. But if we are talking in a literal sense, these are all just tangible objects we are using to hopefully connect to the intangible divine. There is no confirmation that the Universe is listening on a literal level. But it’s the faith right? It’s the idea that we can buy all the crystals and sage our hearts desire to FEEL connected to the world. That we can pray until our knees get weak in order to feel adored by the Creator. That we can do our good deeds, keep the Sabbath, pray 5 times a day. It’s all that and more that is a comfort.

To feel like someone aside from ourselves is listening.

But I am not an atheist. I think atheism is depressing. To feel like there is actually no one in this world who cares about you but you is depressing. No hope for the afterlife is depressing. No deity to worship aside from yourself is depressing. Because I think humans need a G-d. We need a good force to tell us things about ourselves we are too scared to truly admit. We are flawed. And it is not our fault. But we must strive for more. We are born broken, perhaps unfixable but we can become kintsugi.

We can become whole in another life with the work we do here maybe.